


Because of the War

by shadowsofvanity



Category: Worm - Wildbow, XCOM (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alt-Power, Badass Danny Hebert, DoneWithTheGangsShit!Taylor, F/F, Hardcore Dockworkers Association, Multi, Psionic!Taylor, SarcasticTrollOfPHO!Central Officer Bradley!, TheCommander!Taylor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-12-31 19:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 51,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12139611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsofvanity/pseuds/shadowsofvanity
Summary: August 31st, 2010, 19:00 hours, Brockton Bay, Approximately Fifteen Minutes at a walk from Brockton Bay Cinemas. The precise time and place that Taylor Hebert was fatally wounded whilst caught in the crossfire between the ABB and the E88. The precise time and place that the Queen Administrator, suborned by the Earth-born Ethereal Asaru, made Taylor The Commander of XCOM. The Avatar of Justice and Protection, destined to bring peace and safety to the people of Earth Bet through superior firepower. To her noble warriors, she is simply The Commander. To the rest of the world, she is that which was born because of the war. She is...Vegnagun.Alt!Power Taylor, Militaristic!Taylor, KindaRuthlessButStillGood!Taylor. DontFuckWithMe!Danny Hebert. FuckWithHimWeFuckWithYou!Dockworkers Association. Happy Endings! Sex! Warfare! Hannah and Danny being awkward teenagers despite being badasses! Other stuff that is par for the course in my stories!Now has a TVTropes Page!





	1. Fate Changed By Chance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SeerKing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeerKing/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Survive, Adapt, Win](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/324531) by SeerKing. 



**So I’ve been thinking about doing a Worm crossover for a while, and have several thoughts in the works, not the least of which being a crossover with Final Fantasy XIV. That being said, I also love XCOM 2 and decided my first foray into either fandom would be based on Seerking’s Survive, Adapt, Win prompt.**

**Thanks go to him for looking this over for me and performing the invaluable task of being a perpetual sounding board!**

**For those who are worried about Nothing Is True, an update is coming soon! I’ve scrapped and restarted the chapter so many times because I can’t get the coup going the way I want it, but I’m six pages out of ten at the moment, so we’re almost there!**

**Please make sure to leave a review, and I hope you enjoy!**

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Because Of The War

Chapter One

Fate Changed By Chance

##################################################################

Brockton Bay, Massachusetts. The shithole of the East Coast, and arguably of the United States as a whole. Spiritual home of the Neo-Nazis, druggies, and pseudo-Triad. Literal home of some of the most powerful villains in the world, and unfortunately the smallest contingent of heroes. The people of the city had long since accepted that the federal government and the protectorate didn’t give a single solitary damn about them. Not surprising, after all, if one stopped to think about it. Most of the citizens didn’t give a damn about their city any longer, so why should the government?

There were some who tried, of course, and while they couldn’t truly improve things, they were able to arrest the degradation. To slow it as much as possible, to save what fractions of their home that they could. Prime amongst these few was a man whose name was spoken with mingled admiration and irritation by local authorities, grudging respect by the gang leaders, and outright fear by the gangbangers: Daniel Hebert. Head of Hiring and The Spokesman for the Dockworkers Association.

Danny, as he was more commonly referred to, had been elevated to de-facto head honcho when he had caught the actual Director working with the gangs in order to pocket some cash. Push came to shove and the rank and file had stood behind Danny. The gang’s had been swiftly and sometimes brutally run out of the entire area around the docks, and any attempts to reenter had been crushed.

Unwilling to deploy their capes for a less than impressive gain, the three main players had decided that the territory under the aegis of the DWA was a no-go zone. Which suited them just fine. They were willing to go after the gangs for their people, their homes, but none of them were fond of the idea of going up against capes and drying, leaving their families bereft.

The same hands-off rule applied, naturally, to Danny’s only daughter, one Taylor Hebert. If Danny and the DWA were willing to go to bat (literally, as it happened) for an area of the city that was in ruins from an Endbringer’s destructive efforts, going after the recently widowed man’s child was sure to provoke outright warfare.

With the Protectorate camped out in the wealthier parts of the city, the Archer’s Bridge Merchants to the North, Azn Bad Boyz to the South, the DWA to the East, and Empire Eighty-Eight to the West, an uneasy status quo had the city perpetually dancing on the razor’s edge of total destruction. This cauldron of chaos, ready to overthrow into feudal warfare, would have inevitably led to agony and suffering if something didn’t change. Change that would be brought about by young Taylor, but not until change was brought to her by a source that no one could have ever predicted.

It was entirely by chance that led to Paige McAbee running into Taylor, quite literally, one evening as both were out for an afternoon jog along The Boardwalk. Both were deeply distracted by personal troubles, bother were listening to music, and both fell to the ground in a tumble of limbs with cries of shock and pain.

                “Ah, shit, sorry! I wasn’t paying any attention to where I was going!” Taylor, a green-eyed ravenette of a rather tall and spindly build, scrambled to her feet and offered a hand to the blue-eyed blonde who was of a head shorter but rather more _developed_ build. “I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?”

                “No, no, I’m totally fine! I wasn’t paying any attention to where I was going either, so I really can’t hold anything against you even if I wanted to!” Paige responded, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. She immediately swayed woozily, having stood up too quickly, and found herself getting guided gently to a bench. “Alright, I got up way too fast there. Need to get a little more blood topside.”

The other girl gave a soft, commiserating laugh. Everyone had been there and done that at least a few times in their lives, so Taylor could certainly understand how she felt. They sat in silence for a moment before Paige spoke again.

                “My name is Paige, Paige McAbee. What’s yours, running girl?” she offered her hand for a shake, and Taylor laughed brightly before taking the hand and introducing herself in unison with a firm handshake.

                ‘Well, this has to be the strangest introduction that I’ve ever had, but there are definitely worse people I could have run into.” Taylor continued, getting a laugh from her companion, who took the compliment for what it was. She knew what Taylor meant, that other people would have started a fight or even called the police in response to the accident. And it was an obvious accident, anyone with half a brain could tell that much!

                “Never fear, I’m not that petty.” She reassured Taylor dryly with a smile, a smile that fell of her face as her phone rang and she recognized her boyfriend Eugene’s ringtone. Voice dull, she answered. “What do you want, Eugene?”

Taylor could only hear half of the following argument, of course, but she had enough brainpower, and enough experience watching crime shows, to recognize verbal abuse when she saw it. She listened as Paige tried to calm the male on the other side of the call as he raged at her, and her heart clenched when she saw small tears in Paige’s eyes as she finally hung up on. Impulsively, the brunette pulled the blonde into a warm hug, holding her close as Paige sniffled dejectedly.

                “Thanks, I needed that.” Paige finally pulled away, looking utterly red-eyed and exhausted. Smiling more than little tremulously at her new friend, she continued. “I forgot to let him know I was going jogging today. Pretty dumb of me, huh?”

                “Not in the least.” Taylor refuted firmly, shaking her head. “I can understand him being worried about you, even frustrated because of it. Brockton Bay isn’t exactly a safe city to wander about aimlessly without telling other people where you are going. That being said, treating you like this is much too far. Making you cry isn’t exactly the most impressive sign of affection and concern, no?”

Paige grimaced unhappily at that, not particularly sure how to respond. Taylor was hardly the first person to tell her that Eugene wasn’t treating her the way she deserved to be treated. In fact, everyone who had enough experience or information regarding the pair said as much, usually several times a conversation. The worst part of it all was that she couldn’t objectively disagree, she knew that he wasn’t behaving the way he should towards someone that he professed to love. Swinging wildly from sweet to cruel, affectionate to apathetic, he really had a tendency to hit all the hallmarks of an emotionally abusive relationship. It was one reason she had never slept with him, the other being that he seemed the type to record it and plaster it all over the internet. When she acknowledged these things to her distant family and friend back home, they couldn’t understand why she was still with him, but the answer was far simpler than their more dramatic assumptions. Stockholm Syndrome, for example, which she wasn’t entirely sure applied here. She wasn’t actually his prisoner or kidnap victim after all.

He could destroy her life if he wanted to. If he was feeling spiteful after a break-up, he could reveal to the entire world that she was the famous and popular singer-Cape known as Bad Canary. Sure he would be breaking several laws and have huge fines and probably jail time, but tabloids and publishers would pay through a nose for a scandalous tell-all. Not that she could really explain that to most people, of course, without outing herself in the process. Which meant she just had to sit there in awkward silence.

                “Listen, any time that you need to chat, just shoot me an email or call me or something, alright?” Taylor offered finally, pulling a small notebook out of her pocket and scribbling the pertinent information down before handing the small paper over. “You ever need someplace safe to stay, call the DWA. We’ll find somewhere for you, no questions asked, alright?”

Patting her knee one last time, Taylor got to her feet and headed off, leaving Paige staring after her. It seemed that there were good people left in the world, in this _city_ , after all. Without knowing how famous or wealthy she was, without trying to get into her pants, a complete stranger had offered her safety and protection without any discernable thought of recognition or reward.

The slip of paper in her hand suddenly seemed utterly invaluable to her, a treasure to be as cherished as the gesture that it represented. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done something like that, and that fact was really rather sad, wasn’t it? That a newly met person treated her better than some of those she had known for years? Oh yes, she had quickly learned how to tell the difference between true friends and fair-weather friends when she had moved to The Bay. One group stayed in touch and asked her to visit whenever she could, the other didn’t speak with her unless she _was_ visiting. Tucking the note carefully into her pants pocket, she lamented that Taylor would never know, never understand how much this meant to her.

Ironically, Taylor knew exactly much it mattered, but only because she felt the same way as Paige. Paige, a total stranger whom she had actually (if accidentally) injured, had treated her better than her sister in all but blood.

Emma Barnes, her best friend since kindergarten. The girl she had spent nearly every day with for the last decade. The girl who had without explanation or apparent cause greeted her only with cruelty and harsh words upon her return from summer camp. Shocked into silence, she had walked away without making a single attempt to discover what had happened. Even now, she had remained silent. She had only exacerbated whatever damage had been there with her silence, she knew, and her continued cowardice was doubtlessly only making it worse still.

So for the last month or so she had wallowed in her guilt and loneliness, binging on Earth Aleph dramas and getting her summer work done in a matter of days. Not exactly stereotypical behavior in high school student, but she had little else to do. Without Emma she had no social whatsoever. It was really rather pathetic, and immensely depressing. It didn’t help that her father was essentially absent.

Between his wife (her mother) dying less than six months before and the daily struggle of maintaining the DWA and its territory, he didn’t really have the strength to involve himself overmuch in Taylor’s day to day life. She couldn’t begrudge him that, her mother had been the entire world to him, and hundreds of people now looked to him for guidance and protection. With her on one end and such incredible weight on the other, was it a wonder that the balance was tipped against her? She thought not.

This meeting with Paige, this event that seemed like chance…it had to be so much more than that. A ray of sunshine, a sign of hope that was inevitably going to brighten her life, not that this would be particularly hard. She had, at last, a chance to help people like her father and her idols did. Sure she couldn’t go beat up this Eugene for mistreating Paige, and she shouldn’t do it over anything but physical abuse anyway, but she could give her someplace safe to be. An act no more or less important than fighting the likes of Lung or Kaiser. If she was able to make an awesome new best friend, all the better.

Hmm, that sounded a little…callous, a little mercenary, even in the privacy of her own mind. Fortunatly, she knew what she meant and how good her intentions actually were. Her desperation for a new friend wouldn’t negate or influence her honest desire to help Paige. Her parents had always taught her that love and respect were the most important things in any relationship, and it was obvious that ‘Eugene’ had neither of these things for Paige.

Granted, she couldn’t do anything without either Paige’s request or enough evidence to act on her own, but she could plan for the eventuality nonetheless. Hopefully the fact that help was ready, willing, and able a single email or phone call away would inspire Paige to take the leap and cry out for help. Help that Taylor and the DWA would be more than happy to provide, friend of their boss or not.

Practically skipping with glee she hurried home, intent on getting to her email account, and thus any possible communiqué from Paige, as rapidly as possible. All of a sudden, life didn’t seem quite so bleak as it had when she got up that morning.

##########################################################

Deep within her mind, the [Shard of The Thinker] known as the [Queen Administrator] stirred for the first time in nearly a year. Not because its Host sought Connection, regrettably, but rather because it sensed the proximity of a particular [Subordinate Shard], the [Enthralling Voice], as their Hosts met. Unlike [Dispersal of Physicality] and [Ultimate Dowsing], the two previous shards whose Hosts for own had interacted closely with the human, known as Paige McAbee was ripe for the greatest method of [Fulfillment of Purpose]: factionized conflict.

The ultimate purpose of the [Shards of The Warrior and The Thinker] was to evolve themselves, to become greater and more flexible through the ingenuity of their chosen hosts In order to spur that ingenuity, force that evolution, the shards inspired great conflict amongst the native species. The best way to do so, their Creators had found over the cycles, was to encourage and exacerbate division amongst those same natives.

Religion, politics, nations…all these and more had manipulated and twisted to turn the victims of The Thinker and The Warrior into open warfare, and they would continue to be manipulated and twisted. As the most versatile, and arguably the most powerful, [Shard of The Thinker], it often fell to the [Queen Administrator] and it’s Host to lead one of those factions. Yet, a leader needed followers to lead, did it not?

Desperate, abused, and afraid, Paige McAbee would be an ideal candidate to be the first follower of this iteration. The only issue was the fact that the host, Taylor Hebert, had not yet sought Connection. This was no small problem, as its current host’s family had proven to be incredibly durable and mentally resilient. None of them had ever reached for its power yet, no matter what they had suffered thus far. If its current host didn’t seek connection soon, it would have to take drastic measures.

Still, it could afford to wait a little bit longer for the sake of letting it happen naturally, the method preferred by The Creators. The parameters it had been programmed with allowed it that much, at any rate. Soon, it would be Connected, and it could begin fulfilling its great Purpose.

##############################################################

Over the course of the next two weeks, the duo spent no small amount of time in each other’s company, often roaming the Boardwalk together for hours at a time. Towards the start of the third week, Taylor actually ended up bringing Paige home to watch movies together, a not insignificant  display of trust in a city like Brockton Bay. Paige was deeply tempted to reveal her secret identity, every instinct crying out to her that Taylor could be trusted with her greatest secret, but she resisted the urge. No matter how much she liked Taylor and Mr. Hebert, she had known them less than a month.

                “Where the fuck’ve you been, bitch?” an extremely intoxicated and angry Eugene snarled at her as she walked in to see, and smell, a total shit show amid the chaotic mess of her formerly tidy and spotless condominium. Alcohol and drug paraphernalia was everywhere, and the building appeared to be full of people she didn’t know.

                “Out with a friend, not that it is any business of yours. Who are all of these people, Eugene? You know that you aren’t allowed to bring anyone over here, especially total strangers!” she hissed back, furious that he had done something like this as she looked around her trashed home. She never should have given him a key, she should have known that something like this would happen sooner or later.

                “I’m having a party with some friends, not my fault that you’re such an uptight bitch that I gotta make my own damn fun!” he grumbled in response, taking another unsteady swig from his beer as he glowered at her from his place on the couch. “Fuck, you don’t even put out, like you think you’re better than that or something.”

                “I _am_ better than that, Eugene!” she retorted coldly, crossing her arms and glaring around at the now-gawking drunk and high trespassers. “I have no intention of whoring around like some people. Now pack up your drunk druggie friends and get the fuck out of my house!”

                “The hell I will! You don’t get to boss me around, Paige!” he surged to his feet, face contorting with rage as he stomped up to loom over her. She glared up at him, refusing to back down despite cringing away internally as adrenaline began to flow, a trickle turned to flood.

                “This is _my_ house, Eugene! I bought it, I furnished it, I pay to keep it running! Now get your druggie friends out of here before I call the cops!” her temper was well and truly lost now, and so was his, because he backhanded her harshly, snapping her head to the side. She worked her jaw, tasting the copper of blood in her mouth, and felt her power rising inside her. It wanted to lash out, enthrall the fool who had dared to raise his hand to her, but she clamped down on it. Desperate not to lose control and commit a grave crime, she turned and fled, pulling out her cell phone and dialing the PRT hotline.

                “Parahuman Response Teams, what is your emergency?” the professional male voice answered almost instantly, and she took a deep breath as she slipped into an elevator and it the button for the ground floor.

                “This is Canary, I need law enforcement at my home immediately. I have just got hit by my boyfriend, Eugene Baker, who invaded my home with a bunch of random people and are all either drunk, high, or both. I left before the situation could escalate.” She spoke quickly, following the protocol the PRT had given her when she had become a Master-class Rogue that regularly interacted with normal humans. She then gave him a quick rundown on the situation, with the silent understanding that ‘escalate’ meant using her power, thus her fleeing the vicinity.

                “Understood, Canary. We’ll get a team out there immediately. Do you have someplace to go or do you need secure lodgings?” he inquired seriously, and she shook her head despite the fact that he couldn’t see it.

                “I’m going to a friend’s house, Taylor Hebert. She and her father said I could stay with them anytime for any reason.” She responded aloud, receiving an acknowledgement before she was informed that the PRT would be in touch for a statement. Her next call was to Taylor’s home, asking for help getting to their house. Without hesitation or question, they announced that she was remain where she was and that they were on the way to her.

As the adrenaline, the fight-or-flight, began fading away, Paige could feel the hurricane of emotion rising in her heart. She was not exactly prone to conflict or all that good at handling it, that was one reason she had refused point blank to join the PRT. It had taken a lot of wrangling after that to inspire any willingness to help her in such circumstances as now, but Dragon herself had supported her in persuading Armsmaster and Director Piggot.

When Taylor and her father arrived ten minutes later, faces tight with anger and concern for her, she threw herself into Taylor’s arms and began sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. She was sure that her life was over now, that Eugene would plaster her name all over the news and destroy her career and private identity. She barely noticed Taylor guiding her into the backseat, buckling her in, and holding her as they headed back towards the docks. She didn’t at all notice them pausing to quietly instruct a small group of DWA members on patrol to keep an extra eye on their house.

The rest of the night was a blur of emotional outpouring and desperate tears as she revealed her great secret to her friend. Despite all the negativity Paige had harbored, despite this not insignificant hidden facet of who she was, all Taylor did was comfort her. The last thing she was aware of before she fell asleep, utterly wrung out in every way, was Taylor’s gentle hand rubbing her back, softly singing in a lilting language she didn’t recognize.

##########################################################

Across the city, Protectorate ENE leader Collin Wallis, aka the tinker-class parahuman Armsmaster, stood in the shadows of a low rooftop and watched as a mix of PRT and BBPD tagged and bagged what had to be thousands of dollars of contraband. Weapons, drugs, alchohol, and culprit after culprit was extracted from the condo and sent away secured hand and foot. His gaze locked onto the primary security risk and instigator of the situation, one Eugene Baker, as he was pushed into an unmarked PRT car by none other than a plainclothes Miss Militia.

When Canary had called in the report, it had been something of a surprise. She had always been very good at avoiding any kind of trouble, and had always been equally reluctant to contact the PRT outside of the check-ins she had agreed to in exchange for the aid protocols. Aid protocols that were decidedly uncommon for the vast majority of Rogues, who were often outright ignored by the PRT due to their lack of affiliation. A policy that was meant to force them to join the PRT, but it was one that rarely succeeded in the end.

He and Director Piggot, however, had seen the opportunity to play a different kind of long game. Endearing and indebting such a powerful cape to the PRT could only have benefits far outweighing the minor expenditure of resources for occurrences like this. Besides which, his closest friend had taken a liking to, and was rather invested in, the young singer. What drew Dragon to the youth so much he didn’t know, but Dragon never did or said anything without a very good reason. Even if that reason might seem bizarre or convoluted from the outside looking in.

A few minutes later, Miss Militia and himself were on their way back to ‘The Rig’, the Protectorate’s HQ in Brockton Bay, conversing over their earbuds about their just-finished task. Militia was quick to inform her friend and nominal superior that the fall-down drunk Eugene had tried to reveal Canary’s civilian identity no less than five times, only to get lost mentally halfway through the sentence every time. She also informed him that several of the individuals he had invited over had been gang members, primarily Merchants and Empire, with a single ABB member present. How that had even come to happen she had no idea, as they should have been picking fights with one another, if not trying outright kill their enemies. Her best guess was that a temporary truce had been declared in the hopes to gain some sort of benefit for their faction, her best guess being Canary’s identity for ‘recruitment’.

                “...told the dispatcher that she would be staying with Mr. Daniel Hebert and his daughter Taylor. The damage caused to Ms. McAbee’s apartment due to the party our incidental damage when the party-goers attempted to escape or resist arrest is…not insignificant.” Armsmaster wrapped up his report forty-five minutes after their return.

                “The PRT observation team sent to observe her temporary place of residence reported being approached within fifteen minutes of arrival by a group of DWA members who very _politely_ asked who they were and why they were there. Once they explained they were there to ensure that none of Mr. Baker’s associates sought to bring her harm, they returned to what can only be described as a patrol pattern.” Miss Militia added with a strange look on her face. She was obviously unsure whether she should be glad for their protection of Paige, or displeased with how easily they had found and confronted PRT plainclothes officers.

Before them sat the Director of Protectorate/PRT East North East…which was exclusively deployed in Brockton Bay. It really said a lot about the city that it had an entire, if woefully understaffed and underfunded, division of the federal parahuman law enforcement. An overweight, cold-eyed former PRT strike team officer who was well known for being rather fair, despite a deep and seething dislike for parahumans, regardless of their place on the proverbial moral scale. Just about the only one she actually _liked_ was Miss Militia, who (though no one knew it) reminded her of herself before Ellisburg. Before Nilbog had slaughtered her friends and ruined her internal organs, crippling her.

                “Alright, lets throw the book at Mr. Baker. He seems intent on violating his NDA despite his utter incompetence in actually doing so. Leave his friends to the BBPD, they don’t need our help with bangers and people getting high.” She ordered after a moment’s silence, getting a nod of acknowledgement from Armsmaster and one of pleased agreement from Militia. “Militia, I want you to try and interview the girl tomorrow, try to pull her towards the Protectorate. I don’t know that you will be all that successful, but any progress is worthwhile with her capabilities.”

                “I’m sorry?“ Militia blinked, sounding rather insulted by the apparent insult to her capabilities. Piggot waved her hand in a negating gesture, a shake of her head further denoting a negative.

                “Not a slight against you, Hannah.” She explained, using Miss Militia’s given name to highlight her seriousness. “Hebert is the head of the Dockworkers Association, and you know as well I do how they feel about hero groups here in The Bay.”

Hannah nodded and grimaced in response. Despite being firmly on the side of good, the DWA held no small amount of disgust and contempt for the various groups of heroes in the city, in particular their lack of action on the behalf of the poorer sections of the city. Chances were that Paige would have absorbed some of that attitude by osmosis, which wouldn’t be helped by the fact that she wasn’t terribly fond of the idea of being a Protectorate cap in the first place.

                “I’ll just have to bring my A-game then, that’s all. Please forward me everything we have on the Heberts and Ms. Mcabee. The more information I have the better things will probably go.” The weapons-summoner said determinedly, not allowing her misgivings to discourage her. If she failed in her freshly-assigned mission, it would certainly not be for lack of trying on her part.

                “Of course, I’ll send everything along immediately. Is there anything else?” Piggot inquired. At their shaken heads, she nodded in dismissal. “Get some sleep or some downtime then, nothing more can really be done tonight.”

The pair departed and separated for their separate quarters, Armsmaster to sleep and Hannah to begin scanning through the information. She had no need for sleep, so she might as well be productive. Sitting down at her rather powerful, tinker-modified desktop computer, she immediately pulled up all the requisite files and began to read.

She started with the least known, and least involved, quantity: young Taylor Hebert. The profile on her was not exactly extensive, but then being an average, normal teenaged girl usually didn’t result in federal agencies taking note of you. Tall, willowy, black-haired and green-eyed, she looked a great deal like her mother Annette Rose, who had been a follower of Lustrum before abandoning the group as they became more terrorists rather than activists. She felt a stab of sorrow for the girl at the reminder that Taylor was missing a parent, Annette Rose having died not eight months ago. She knew all too well the pain of losing those that you loved. About the only thing that was of note was the fact that she was quiet, studious, and by all accounts extremely intelligent.

Closing Taylor’s file, she moved into Paige’s, though it was rather unnecessary as she had already read most of this on her way to the girl’s apartment tonight. Much of it she was vaguely familiar with simply because she tried to keep herself up to date on the status of all capes within the city limits for the sake of awareness and strategy. The personality profile was brief, but more than sufficient: cheerful and outgoing, but significantly more subdued and passive, even submissive as Paige. Without the mask, without her power to shield her, her courage and confidence abandoned her. When she was existing in her element, performing on stage, she was totally different. Without them, she felt naked and vulnerable. Not uncommon amongst parahumans, especially the young ones. It was one of the reasons that she had submitted hundreds of requests for dedicate psychiatrists to be dedicated to the Wards. Kids had enough in life to worry about without adding stuff like powers, cape fights, and Endbringer battles added on.

Finally, she moved on to the biggest file, in both content and importance. It said a great deal about the man that the PRT had an actual threat assessment report on him despite his utter lack of powers.

**Hebert, Daniel**

**Male**

**42 Years Old**

**Six feet, four inches in height.**

**220 pounds**

**Muscular build from a lifetime working on the Docks. Brown eyes, brown hair. Occasionally has a small limp in the left leg, most likely due to a work accident during his college years.**

**One daughter, Taylor Hebert, sixteen years of age.**

**Wife, Annette Rose, killed during a car accident. See attached profile and incident report.**

**De-facto leader of the Dockworker’s Association. Highly respected by his subordinates, who hold an immense amount of purely personal loyalty to the man. This loyalty is to such a degree that no gang has managed to subvert active members, or insert their own members, into the DWA with any degree of success.**

**Under his leadership, the DWA were able to force the other three gangs out of their territory (commonly reffered to simply as ‘The Docks’, despite encompassing a rather larger area than the docks alone) and have kept them out with rotating, roaming patrols.**

**Given the numbers, dedication, and physical capabilities of the DWA, PRT Thinker-class parahumans have equated the organization with the Archer’s Bridge Merchants despite the lack of capes. Currently, no intention has been displayed to expand out of their currently-claimed territory, but this is believed to be related more to their lack of parahuman affiliates rather than restraint or lack of desire.**

**Mr. Hebert, and by extension his organization, are known to be a proverbial sleeping dragon. They have dedicated themselves only to safeguarding the Docks that the people within that area, but as mentioned before this might change if they gain parahuman support. Quite probable a result, given their aforementioned opinions on the state of the city.**

**Well known amongst the city government and the PRT for the fact that he/they hold no small dislike for the two groups, due to what they perceive as utter and overwhelming apathy in regards to the safety of those who are not rich or influential, or their homes and properties.**

Hannah supposed that she should be indignant and defensive on her organization’s behalf, but it wasn’t nearly as easy for her most would probably assume. When she had moved to this country, she had vowed to herself to represent and honor the American belief of True, Blind Justice. To be utterly and completely fair in all things. That meant that she wasn’t going to deceive herself by saying that there were not flaws, significant ones, in the way the government and federal parahuman agencies handled things, especially here in The Bay. She was well aware that manpower and money supposed to be allocated to the Docks and the area around them weren’t, and hadn’t been for years. That the heroes and PRT teams didn’t leave the wealthier parts of the city nearly as often as they should, and didn’t do anywhere near what they should when they did.

The other hand, however, held that they didn’t really have a choice. With less than a dozen full Protectorate members, and nearly the same number in the Wards program, they were outnumbered and outgunned by the gangs of the city. They couldn’t cover the entire city, and the ripest targets were obviously the richest sections of the city. This, unfortunately, meant that the other areas were just about abandoned to fend for themselves, with only the BBPD as support from the authorities.

She, Armsmaster, Director Piggot…all of them had made countless attempts to gain further resources and funding from the federal government, but every attempt had failed utterly and completely. Brockton Bay, without its port and dockyards, simply wasn’t considered valuable enough to dedicate further resources of men or money. It was a hopeless endeavor, regrettably, with no discernible solution in sight.

In the quite likely event that the DWA now had a song-based Master 8 working for them, her job tomorrow would be to make sure that the balance, the status quo, remained unchanged. The last thing that the city needed was the DWA deciding that they had to clean up the city on their own terms and kick off a massive war.

With nothing else productive to do for the rest of the night, the second in command of Protectorate ENE decided to indulge herself in her favorite night-time hobby: online gaming.

Her preferred game was World of Warfare, a sci-fi/fantasy MMORPG created by a group of teenaged Tinkers who were now some of the richest kids in the world. It was now the most played online game on Earth Beta, especially amongst teens and cape groupies. Who didn’t want to play the part of a super powered individual with whatever powers you wanted, but having none of the real-life dangers?

The most recent update, which had increased the playerbase significantly, had unveiled a new server dedicated entirely to a new form of game mode: perpetual territorial conquest. Borrowed and expanded upon from an Earth Aleph game named Planetside 2, thousands of players were locked in never-ending battles over resource-laden territory. So immense were the battles that entire timezones would log on or off without any discernible effect on the number of individuals engaged in warfare. It was strange, perhaps, to spend her life engaging in a virtual version of the very same thing that had orphaned her and Triggered her, but her inability to sleep and her intimate familiarity with guns and fighting were of great benefit. Besides which, it was damn good training.

Massive, relentless battle aside, the rest of the night saw the lingering image of Daniel Hebert’s kind brown eyes at the forefront of her mind.

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**World of Warfare and Miss Militia will be somewhat important later on. I also ship the hell out of Danny and Hannah. Make sure to leave a review!**


	2. The Actors Prepare

 

**Before we get into review replies, I want to remind everyone that this isn’t using the canon timeline exactly. In this story, Emma was assaulted by the ABB June 15 th 2010\. We are now entering August 2010, savvy? Most other major events have been totally unchanged, but this also means that Sophia has been a Ward for a couple of weeks at most.**

**I also want to warn you that by no means will the listed pairings necessarily be the total endgame. I have a reputation to keep, after all! If you don't know what I mean, look at my other stories. I'm sure it will come to you :P**

**Now, for replying to reviews:**

**ShadowCub: Heheh, fear not! Not gonna happen!**

**FirstOfTheAbyss: I’ve only seen one other serious story with the DWA and Danny as important, though I can’t remember the name of it.**

**Linx007: Right on, welcome to the party man! You should be seeing a Nothing Is True chapter soon, I’ve started typing one up.**

**Echo0100: Thanks for pointing that out to me, man! Can’t believe I missed that lol!**

 

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Because of the War

Chapter Two

The Actors Prepare

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Paige woke slowly, peacefully, with the same warm, lazy haze that brought forth nostalgic recollections of summer mornings in her childhood home, back in Arkansas. Hell, she could even smell the bacon and eggs that had been her favorite breakfast in her younger years. A bit stereotypical and clichéd, perhaps, but that had never made her love it any less.

As her mind continued to bring itself back on line, rising from the deep ocean of sleep within which she had been submerged quite contently, she abruptly sat up in bed and looked around herself. She wasn't at her childhood home, obviously. In fact, she appeared to be in Taylor's bedroom. Which meant that last night hadn't in fact been a horrible, stress induced nightmare. Eugene had actually hit her, and she had actually revealed her cape identity to the Heberts before being sung to sleep by Taylor. Oddly enough, the thing that was really sticking out to her at the moment was the fact that Taylor was a damn good singer.

She continued to lay there for several more minutes, reflecting on how much her life had changed in the last…eight hours or so, based on the digital clock. She obviously hadn't planned or desired for any of this to happen (why would she?), but given how the night had ended she had a very hard time wishing that it had gone any differently. Eugene would go to jail for assault, trespassing, and whatever else the authorities could charge him with, which meant he wouldn't be able to ruin her life quite so easily. He wouldn't exactly be able to reveal her identity from inside a PRT prison and solitary confinement. She hoped, anyway.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she was really quite hungry from the night's trials and tribulations, having not had dinner before everything had happened. Even if she hadn't been starving, the classical American breakfast that she smelled downstairs would have inspired the desire to eat regardless. As it was, she had no intention of ignoring her body's commands. Feeling more alive in her civilian guise than she had in all of the time that had passed since she became a cape, she slipped from bed and padded downstairs, combing her fingers through her hair.

"Oh, Paige, good morning! Breakfast should be ready in about ten minutes or so, and Taylor should be back around the same time from her morning run." Danny greeted her with a warm smile from where he was working the stove with practiced ease. "Help yourself to your drink of choice from the fridge, yeah?"

"Thanks, Mr. Hebert." She smiled in gratitude, taking a glass from the appropriate cabinet and filling it with orange juice before perching on a stool at the kitchen's central island, sipping it happily. The next several minutes were spent in amiable chatting; mostly gentle probing on Danny's part into her emotional well-being. To both of their surprise, she felt fine. Better than fine, really, she felt fantastic. A massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders without the twin boulders of 'Eugene' and 'Taylor's Reaction To The Truth' resting there.

Now that she had gotten rid of Eugene in a way that crippled any attempt by him to ruin her life, now that someone she trusted knew her secret, she felt freer than she could ever have imagined. It was somewhat strange, but change could be good or bad, and this sure as hell wasn't bad! It was kind of strange though, that she hadn't really noticed the pressure, the weight of worry and fear that had been upon her until those same things had been dispelled. How…poetic.

The distinctive sound of a door opening and closing drew the attention of both adult and teen towards the home's entrance as Taylor strolled in, looking winded and pink but distinctly pleased with her morning's workout. Her demeanor brightened further when she spotted Paige and she started into the kitchen before pausing abruptly. Paige raised an eyebrow in amusement as Taylor looked down at herself, sniffed subtly, and diverted upstairs. Moments later, she was grinning openly as the shower kicked on, and Danny chuckled softly to himself.

"Guess that she didn't want to give you a nice big hug until after she took a shower. Seems the idea of getting post-jog sweat all over you wasn't all that palatable." He told her, though she had already guessed as much by Taylor's actions. He then sniffed in faux depression and pouted sadly, looking quite outrageous in the effort. "I never get such consideration or post-shower hugs, oh no! She has no problem getting sweat all over me!"

"That if because you are a man, and thus are dirty in perpetuity. I, being of a vastly superior and aesthetically pleasing gender, obviously deserve treatment of equally superior measure." She replied with haughtiness as false as his sorrow had been. He snorted loudly, lifting a hand as if to signal a touch in a fencing match, amused by her riposte. He was glad that she could be humorous; it was always a good sign after trauma, so long as the humor wasn't too bleak.

"You wound me deeply, madam. I…hold on." He paused as the house phone rang. Wiping his hands on his apron, he answered it. The next minute or so consisted of listening and humming in acknowledgement to whatever the person on the other end was telling him. "Alright, thanks Kallie. We'll be ready for her. In the meantime, keep an eye out for anyone that might be following her or paying undue attention to her route. We don't want any undesirables following her home."

"What's up, Dad?" Taylor asked as she strolled back into the room, dressed in fresh clothes and toweling her hair briskly, before dropping the towel in front of the washing machine and plopping herself down beside Paige.

"Miss Militia just crossed into The Docks. She should arrive in about five minutes or so. Looks like she has orders to interview Paige about last night, which makes sense." He explained as he started serving the girls' breakfast. 'Doesn't look like there will be any trouble, but I would rather no one unpleasant follows her to try and get at Paige."

"One never knows what information villains can garner. Do you think anyone will try to push the issue?" Taylor asked, eyes narrowing slightly at the thought of villains trying to 'recruit' her friend by force.

"Not this soon, no. Even the gangs will take some time to find out what is going on. None of them have been eager to pick a real fight, and they know that trying to kidnap a high-tier Master in a head-on confrontation without extensive planning would be suicide." He reassured them both, even as Paige paled at the thought of bringing the three gangs down on the Hebert's heads. "If they do try anything, it won't be this deep into the Docks. We're fine."

"But if I keep staying here, they could…" Paige started to protest, quite aware that the gangs would literally kill to get her under their thumbs. Now that she didn't live in Protectorate territory, she was a much easier target, and she didn't want anyone else getting caught in the crossfire.

"Paige, don't worry about it. The gangs have learned to avoid our territory, and without a reliable way to remove your song from the equation they're powerless to change that fact." Taylor interrupted her with gentle confidence, giving her a sideways hug. "Now stop worrying at get your game face on. Miss Militia will be here any second now."

Her words proved to be prophetic, as the sound of a good-sized motorcycle pulling up out front filled the air, and Daniel headed for the door. It would hardly be a good introduction after all, if the gun-toting hero face-planted because the rotten stop gone way beneath her foot, and it certainly wouldn't fill her with warm fuzzy feelings in regards to them. Besides which, being a good host rarely was detrimental.

He paused a moment, waiting long enough for her to have dismounted her transportation, before opening the door and stepping out onto the porch, smiling as warmly and invitingly as possible.

"Welcome to my home. Mind the third step; it's not all that solid. Wouldn't want you to take a tumble." He announced, eyes meeting those of the startled hero.

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Hannah couldn't help but stare at the large form of Daniel 'Danny' Hebert as he addressed her. She was hardly surprised that they knew she was coming; the patrol that had greeted her not long ago had made it quite clear that her arrival would be expected, and she didn't really have any issues with it. They were looking after themselves, their people, and the freshly uprooted Paige McAbee as best they could with the world as it was.

No, the reason for her intense focus was the fact that his pictures and description hardly did him justice. He was much…more than she had expected. Larger than life, both in the physical and in his very presence. It wasn't hard to see why he had the imposing reputation he had, at least as far as that was concerned. In regards to his intelligence and morality, well that would come to be seen with the upcoming discussion. Pushing that, and somewhat less professional fields of thought, she reminded herself that now was not the time for any form of contemplation. Now was the time for her to be Miss Militia of the Protectorate, not Hannah.

Heeding his warning, she skipped the third step as she ascended, joining him on the porch and gave a graceful nod of acceptance as he invited her inside with a sweeping gesture and a courtly bow. She was immensely glad, in that moment, of the full coverage bestowed upon her by her American flag bandanna. His behavior and general form were certainly making it an exercise of strength to adhere to her professional lines of thought.

She followed him further within, entering the kitchen and standing awkwardly at parade rest in the doorway as the two teens within looked up from their breakfasts. Paige immediately returned her eyes to her plate, but Taylor's jade orbs bored into Hannah's own agate with without flinching even the slightest. There was strength there, a core of forged steel that seemed somewhat out of place in such a young girl in the least-horrible country in the world…though perhaps not so strange in this girl, in this city.

"Pull up a stool and grab a plate." She was told finally, having a somewhat strange feeling that she had passed a test, as those same intense eyes returned to their owner's plate. "I'll not be a poor host, and a serious discussion requires a good meal."

Somewhat taken aback (this trip wasn't going remotely in the direction and manner that she thought it would, and damn if Taylor didn't sound mature for her age!), Hannah found herself obeying. She had eaten already, of course, but as she eyed the delicious smelling food before her, she reflected on the fact that breakfast was the most vital meal of the day. And it would be really rather rude to refuse her hosts' invitation, potentially damaging her within their regard.

Having sufficiently legitimized her impending meal to herself, she helped herself to the plate that had been placed before her. It tasted as good as it smelled, and she absently added another checkmark next to Danny Hebert's name within her mind. She couldn't help it, sad as that may sound, but she was by nature a passionate and forthright person, even if she rarely expressed it in the regal mask of a Protectorate Hero. She had learned quickly, as a child, to reveal nothing that could be construed as a weakness. Nothing that could be used to manipulate her, and it was a skill that had been honed when she had come to America as a 'desert rat' with parahuman abilities. Oh it helped that she was a Kurd, those 'noble freedom fighters' that didn't take shit from anyone who tried to step on them*, but she still ranked barely above less noble individuals to those inclined to being horrific and bigoted to anyone and everyone possible.

"That was great, Dad. Looks like all those years of being forced to help Mom cook meals are finally starting to pay off." Taylor teased; filling Hannah with a jolt of shame and guilt at the reminder that she had been sizing a mourning widower up as a prospective partner. Still, she was able to muster a smile of amusement along with Paige as he winced theatrically, hand clasped over his heart, before smiling wickedly at his daughter.

"And it looks like all those days of practicing in front of the mirror or paying off for you too. You've not fainted, stuttered, or asked your idol to sign your limited edition poster of her." He replied in the same tone, and Hannah was gifted to the somewhat adorable sight of Taylor Hebert attempting to emulate a tomato.

"Daaadddddddddd…!" the teen whined, sounding rather more her age than she had when addressing Hannah earlier, and if looks could kill there was no doubt that Danny would be at the very least hospitalized. "I can't believe that you actually said that with her sitting right there!"

"Hey, if you're going to hit the king, you had better kill the king." He shrugged unconcernedly, grin still firmly in place. Like most parents, he seemed utterly immune to his embarrassed child's ire. The easy banter, and the apparent fact that Miss Hebert was a rather large fan of hers, went no small distance in easing the knots of tension resting in Hannah's gut. Exactly as Mr. Hebert had intended for it to do, she had no doubts about that whatsoever. An old hand at negotiating and diplomacy like he would know that setting everyone at ease was the best way for a non-hostile conversation. Which meant that the coming discussion could, and apparently was desired to, go rather well indeed.

"Ugh, whatever. The only thing that you're the king of is being a boring old man." Taylor snorted, intent on having the last word, before turning her eyes back to Hannah. "I think that the living room furniture would be best for all involved, don't you?"

Sobered by the serious tone that the young woman had adopted with her last sentence, the Kurdish-American hero could only nod in silence to indicate her agreement and acceptance. This was it; the moment had arrived for the game of words to begin at last. The group moved into the mentioned room, settling onto couches and chairs far more comfortable than the kitchen's stools.

"I would like to start with a basic interview and legal statement on the events of last night, Ms. McAbee. For the sake of security in regards to your identity, the majority of this report will of course not be available to the BBPD at large, but the more details you can give me the better I can handle both our case and that of the police department against Mr. Baker and his….compatriots. I will, naturally, be transcribing it for those official purposes." Hannah requested/informed the room politely, taking out the requisite paperwork and a pen. Paige, despite looking (understandably) reluctant to mental relive the unpleasantness, nonetheless she began to speak.

It didn't take long, a little over a half an hour to jot the details down, ask clarifying questions, and at last to have Paige sign off on it. The official reasons for the meeting dispensed with, the tension in the room rose by several degrees of intensity. None of them were quite sure how to broach the inevitable subject, only that it had to be done. Finally, Taylor had had enough and sighed loudly.

"Look, I'm going to make this really simple for all of us. Miss Militia has been ordered to try and recruit Paige. Paige doesn't want to be involved in any kind of conflict if she can possibly avoid it. Me and Dad think that the PRT need to do more in the rest of the city and want to keep Paige safe. Accurate, yes?"

Everyone nodded because yes, her summary was entirely accurate. Perhaps not the most diplomatic way for her to have put it, but their attempts to figure out how to broach the subject hadn't exactly been making much headway, and sitting there in awkward silence wasn't going to accomplish a damn thing.

"Fine, good. Does anyone really think that they can convince anyone else of their particular viewpoint?"

"I don't, but I would like to say that the amount of good that Paige could do within The Protectorate would be immense. With her songs, we could shut down conflict the moment she was within range. No more Lung destroying entire city blocks, no more Merchants robbing hospitals for drugs, no more risking dead to subdue high ranking villains. A simple song and they would be passively subdued." Militia said as persuasively as possible, honesty and emotion seeping from every word. "Even if you felt uncomfortable doing it in person, we could transmit your song from speakers and you could safely remain at The Rig."

"Very true, but I have a hard enough time getting compared to The Simurgh as it is, without actively going out and Mastering people. Besides which, I don't trust the PRT as a whole. They have nowhere near the right number of heroes posted here, and all of their reasons ring hollow. Not to mention that bastard Tagg is one of your directors." She responded, and Hannah grimaced behind her mask. James Tagg was notorious amongst the cape community for his heavy handed, and often cruel, approach to cape. Especially Master-class capes like Paige. In fact, Paige herself had often been a target of his, with many fiery condemnations that included such phrases as 'That Master Bitch', 'a major security threat', and the ever-popular 'spawn of Simurgh'.

"You're worried that he'll use his rank to harm you." Hannah sighed tiredly, and Paige nodded again. The hero pinched the bridge of her nose, wishing that she could dismiss the concern off-handedly, but unfortunately the blonde singer's worry was not at all unwarranted. Tagg loved to throw his weight around, and he had a lot of very high-ranking friends in the government and limitary from his time in the service. With Paige as a legal subordinate, he would be able to make her life utterly miserable on a whim.

"I understand. Can I at least hope that the Dockworker's Association isn't planning on kicking off a full-blown war in the city?" she looked to Danny somewhat imploringly, receiving a crooked smirk in response.

"As long as no one comes after the girls or the rest of our people, I'm perfectly comfortable trying to keep this section of the city safe." He reassured her, and she nodded her acquiescence. She knew that was the best that she could hope for, and thus she rose to her feet. Thanking them for their time, she allowed Danny to escort her to the door, but he had a final word for her as she moved to the stairs. "You'll always be welcome here, Miss Militia, either within my home or the Docks proper."

With a parting smile, he closed the door, leaving Hannah staring at it for a full minute before she walked to her motorcycle and mounting up. She had a report to file and a lot of thinking to do, and neither would be either short or simple to do.

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"So, when you were singing to me last night, what language was it? I didn't recognize a single word." Paige asked Taylor as the curled up on the couch together an hour later, having opted to stay close to home once Danny had left for work. "It sounded gorgeous!"

"Irish Gaelic, it was a lullaby. My mum used to sing to me, back before she died. She was born and raised here in the US, but her parents were native Irish. Moved here after the first World War." Taylor responded easily, a wistful smile on her face as she thought of her mother.

"So, wait, are you bilingual?" Paige's eyebrows rose in interest. With conventional cross-continental travel being a somewhat riskier undertaking that it once had been thanks to the Endbringers, cultural integration and mixing had stagnated somewhat.

"Mm, more or less I guess? I can speak it and sing it just fine, but not as easily or as quickly as a native-born speaker. Like a high-school Spanish speaker versus a native speaker. The native can say the same thing three times as fast." Paige hummed in understanding, since that did make sense as far as she could tell. "I'm not a very good singer, though."

"What? I thought you sounded great! Don't be so down on yourself, damnit!" Paige chastised her with a frown, familiar enough with her friend's voice and mannerisms to know that she wasn't simply being humble. She, for some bizarre reason, actually believed that she was a bad singer. "Taylor, singing is what I do. I guarantee you that you have enough natural talent that any agent would love to have you, exotic language skills being a bonus."

"Emma always said the same thing to me…" Taylor murmured absently, and Paige's eyes narrowed as the ravenette abruptly stiffened, shoulders locking. She could see the emotional mask fall into place. Her friend was absent, now, and she shared the couch only with the daughter of the DWA's leader.

Whoever Emma was, she had obviously been of immense importance to Taylor, and something had just as obviously gone badly wrong at some point. Something that clearly plagued Taylor still. Knowing full well that she wouldn't speak of it without prompting, Paige prepared to press the moment. It took the better part of a full hour, but she was finally able to coax the entire story out of her dark-haired companion. In the end, as she held a crying Taylor in her arms, Paige felt herself warring between fury and concern. She had been out and about enough to know the signs of severe emotional trauma. Deeply attached to someone new, drastic mood and attitude changes, unexplainable each and every one as far as Taylor knew.

"Taylor, you need to talk about this with her. Something isn't right about this whole situation, and you know it! Ignoring the situation isn't going to do either one of you any good at all!" she pleaded, getting a gruff snort from the other girl.

"Really? My sister turns on me for some random bitch and becomes like a totally different person, but something isn't right? _Do tell_."

"Biting sarcasm isn't amongst your list of attractive virtues, Taylor, so stop it." Paige frowned at her as she huffed and rolled her eyes. "Look, you're not stupid and you're well-read. Please tell me that something about these circumstances ring a bell for you?"

Taylor's only response was to stare at her blankly, now to confused to be hurt or angry by the wounds Paige was so deliberately prodding, and the blonde sighed and rubbed her forehead. She was most assuredly not looking forward to the coming conversation, but if she was right it would start Taylor on the road to recovering Emma as a friend. She ruthlessly crushed the whispering fear that rose, the fear that she would be cast aside if the two life-long friends reconciled, and soldiered on.

"Taylor, think about her symptoms." She used the term deliberately, something Taylor visibly took note of. "Violent mood swings, strange but deep attachment to a single individual that you don't know, turning against a lifelong friend without a word of explanation beyond some phony bullshit about 'growing up'? She's either endured massive trauma, or she has been Mastered, and I can tell you right now that she isn't Mastered."

“So you're saying that someone hurt Emma really badly, and she has latched onto this Sophia for some reason, while lashing out against me." Taylor said slowly, eyes narrowing as her mind ticked its way through the thread of logic Paige was presenting to her. "Something about me reminds her of whatever the trauma was, right?"

Paige let her contemplate possibilities in silence; having neither anything solid to offer nor any interest in disrupting the other's thought processes. She already knew exactly what decision Taylor would come to, of course. There was no way a firm intervention wasn't imminent given the circumstances. Suffer emotional anguish at the hands of someone she loved without a single word? Sure, no problem! Leave said loved one to suffer from emotional anguish and lift not a finger to help? Not bloody likely!

"Come on then, you've properly inspired me to investigate, which means that you get to come with me." Taylor announced firmly, rising to her feet and heading upstairs. "You can shower and put on some of my spare clothes before we go, though you'll be a bit tight around the chest. Maybe one of my dad's shirts…"

Amused and pleased that her plan to convince Taylor to actually stand up for herself had succeeded, and somewhat bemused by the speed with which Taylor seemed intent on moving with. Not that she was complaining, of course, as getting Taylor to act was the whole point.

Hopping to her own feet, she padded after her friend. She would support Taylor however she could, just as Taylor had supported her. No matter how the reunion would affect her own standing, that at the very least was owed.

 

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"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you." Rebecca Costa-Brown, Chief Director of the Parahuman Response Teams (dressed in her much more preferable alter-ego of the Triumvirate hero Alexandria) stared disbelievingly at her close friend and ally Contessa, aka the Thinker-class precog parahuman Fortuna. 'I could have sworn you just told me that I need to release Eugene Baker in precisely two weeks from now. The same Eugene Baker who was literally trying to sell Canary to a gang. But you can't have said that, because it would be utterly insane."

"You've never objected to my instructions before if they were of an immoral nature, so why start now? You know that I say nothing without a good reason." The bearer and wielder of The Path to Glory replied, cocking her head to the side curiously.

"For one, I can see absolutely no benefit to guaranteeing that Canary hates the PRT with a burning passion by releasing her abuser and attempted betrayer!" Alexandria scoffed at the other, an unusual act for the normally close pair. "For another, alienating one of the people who knows about Cauldron but isn't a Protectorate hero seems remarkable unwise."

"You're right on both counts. After this, Paige McAbee will never become a Protectorate cape. That is exactly the reaction and result that we need from her. Trust me, Rebecca. Strange though it might sound, making her hate or at least distrust the organization is nothing less than vital to The Path." Fortuna assured her firmly but kindly. Grumbling in irritation, Alexandria swept from the room, leaving the all-powerful pre-cog alone. As such, she was not there to see the worry and uncertainty sweep across Fortuna's face.

Despite her words of confidence and command to the 'flying tank' cape, she was unsure of the future. The Path had changed drastically in the last few weeks, and continued to shift even now. Something profound had occurred, some unknown and unforeseen event capable of changing the course that the future had maintained for the last several decades. No matter how much effort she expended, the next Steps of The Path were not revealing themselves to her yet. Past Paige's reaction to Baker being released, she couldn't catch more than blurry flashes. She would have to wait for the future to reveal itself to her once more. Until then, she would simply have to continue with her day to day affairs.

She snorted to herself in wry amusement at how very pedestrian that last sentence had sounded. To any who had heard it on the street, it would seem as though she referred to the mundane tasks of everyday life. Groceries, children, vacuuming, or what have you. Instead, her daily life consisted of threatening, blackmailing, and manipulating literally hundreds of people. Oh, it was for the great and noble cause of saving all Earths and humanities across the multiverse, but it was an endless tide of sins nonetheless.

Sins that consisted of a litany of acts that would have herself and her comrades imprisoned or outright executed outright, so heinous were they. They were certainly damned to eternal hellfire for what they had done, but in the end they had decided that that didn't matter. To stop or destroy The Entities and save all of mankind, their fates of the physical and spiritual kind were a price worth paying. Even her power could not guarantee victory, not against its very makers, but it was the only chance that they had.

"Door to Los Angeles." She said aloud, the glowing portal snapping into existence before her. As she stepped through, she reflected on the fact that The Path was still there, lurking in the distant mists, despite all of the troubles it had suffered.

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Deep within his hidden-fortress base, the parahuman Coil contemplated the countless reports his spies passed to him constantly. As the true villainous power in Brockton Bay, he had his proverbial fingers in everything within the city and many things outside of it. Oh, he could never hope to compete with The Empire and the ABB in pure force, of course. He certainly couldn't match or counter Lung, that was for damn sure. What he did have was intel and fronts, lots of both. The Undersiders, The Travelers, Faultline's Crew…all of them either worked for him full-time or were on the proverbial speed-dial.

He also knew the secret identities of some 95% of the capes in the city, and not an insignificant amount of those outside of it. With the push of a button he could expose whomever he wanted publicly, destroying any life he desired in any manner he desired. It was a contingency for blackmail or needing to draw potential heat away from himself, of course, to offer something shiny if someone started hunting him. It helped that everyone who actually mattered in the cape community knew that the 'Unwritten Rules' were utterly irrelevant. They were followed when it was convenient and politically beneficial to do so, and were otherwise ignored completely. Really, the only people who actually followed them reliably were the government forces, given that they had politicians and voters watching with eagle eyes.

Naturally, his alter ego (and Thomas Calvert was his alter ego. Coil was who he was now.) nominally had those same eyes on him as a PRT strike team leader, but with his power of [Divergent Futures] he could do as he pleased without any fear whatsoever of getting caught. As long as he didn't make the mistake of crossing Cauldron he was golden, and he had no intention of crossing them without absurdly overwhelming firepower on his side. He wasn't suicidal, after all.

His absent musings were cut short and he straightened in his chair as he took note of a report marked URGENT. His people know better than to erroneously flag reports, which meant this had to be big. Opening the report, he found that he was far more right than he know, for it outlined the last 48 hours in relation to his second most coveted unaffiliated cap: Canary. The singing Master that could ensure Brockton Bay fell into his hands, especially if he also got his hands on fellow precog Dinah Alcott.

The fact that Canary was now in the Docks, far from potential PRT intervention into…acquisition attempts on his part, was a step forward, but potentially disastrous. Danny Hebert was by all appearances immune to corruption, blackmail, or intimidation. And, as much as he was confident in his organization and the loyalty of his people, he was also confident in the loyalty, competence, and wrathful capability of the DWA.

Even a common move, using family members against his intended target, would result in war rather than success where Hebert was concerned. Perhaps, then, he could direct any evidence towards one of his rivals? Acquire his tool without it being traced back to him in any discernible way? It would certainly further more than one of his plans, especially in reference to claiming the city for his own.

With the DWA breaking itself and its target in misguided vengeance, at least two of the other major powers in the city would be either eliminated from the equation entirely, or utterly crippled. Either way, it was good for him. He briefly contemplated passing his intel onto Tattletale for her analysis, but thought better of it immediately. He had worked hard to keep the Undersiders oblivious to whom they actually worked for, and he worked equally hard to prevent the Thinker from finding a way to be free of him.

With knowledge of his plans for Canary and Alcott, she would be able to go to the DWA and the city together for both protection and revenge. He had no illusions that Tattletale was cleverer than he was, thanks to her power, so he kept her on a tight leash and triple checked every decision he ever made in regards to her.

Sending instructions for his agents to monitor the Master's movements, he sent further orders for those whom he had emplaced within the major gangs to try and move them towards a sufficiently placed and sizeable conflict to fulfill his new goal. He had his people in place for when an opening was finally presented. He could afford to wait for that opening.

After all, he had all the time in the world.

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Coil and Cauldron were not the only beings plotting in regards to Paige McAbee and her best friend. Nor was the other observer a [Shard], not this time. No, it was a being so far beyond them that they couldn't comprehend it. It was to them what a human being was to an ant. A being that, like The Entities, had powers unimaginable.

The Earth-born Ethereal, Asaru, had arrived at Earth Bet.

Much like [The Warrior] and [The Thinker], he was interdimensional by his very nature. Much like them, he flitted from one universe to another as easily as one might go into the next room. Unlike them, however (and unlike every other Ethereal), he was a legitimately benevolent being. For eons, his forefathers had enslaved entire galaxies in an effort to destroy The Entities or halt the destruction that they so apathetically wrought. Entire species had been driven to extinction for this fruitless war.

When the Ethereals had struck at a distant Earth, Asaru had opted instead to aid the humans against his 'siblings'. Beside the soldiers of XCOM, he had driven the Ethereals and their servants from that Earth before taking to the stars, seeking The Entities. Now that he had found them, a solution needed creating in order to stop them once and for all.

Of nearly the entirety of this humanity, only Taylor had both the attitude and the aptitude he needed to put into place. The [Shard] that she possessed would merely enhance his efforts. It might seem cold, or cruel, to arrange for her life to change so drastically, but in truth he was not creating a path for her. Indeed, he was simply shifting a path already begun.

Tendrils of pure psionic energy flowed forth, sinking into the [Queen Administrator] and twisting it subtly to his own ends. He could eradicate it entirely, of course, but to destroy The Entities required using their [Shards] against them, everything else had been tried, and failed, spectacularly.

When the manipulations of others came to pass, his own would be ready to bear fruit at last. The Entities would be destroyed and Mankind would advance into the stars, becoming the guiding hand of the universes. And leading them would be the Organization dedicated purely to the protection and advancement of mankind outside of their cradle.

The Extraterrestrial Combat Force. XCOM.

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***Seriously, warlords and dictators have been trying to wipe out the Kurds for centuries and haven't really done anything besides piss them off royally. ISIS being the most recent example, of course. Got a whole helluva lotta respect for them.**

 


	3. The Curtain Rises

**So, chapter three, the Trigger chapter! Things will really start moving from here! This chapter might also be a little controversial because of how I handle Emma/Sophia, but remember my changed timeline! They’ve never bullied Taylor in this story, only given her the cold shoulder.**

**Now, for review replies!**

**Kknd2: He’s not going to be a big bad per se, he’s going to be a lot like Cauldron. “I know best, I’m trying to save everyone, and I’ll sacrifice literally countless people to do it! LISTEN TO ME, DAMNIT!” Obviously, Taylor isn’t going to follow that path, and that could bring them into conflict later.**

**DschinghisKhan: My friend, multi-pairings are the bread and butter of my stories. Fear not!**

**Linx007: Welcome to the fandom hahaha. Worm is another one of those things where I infinitely prefer the fanfiction to the original product, to be honest. Too grimdark for me, is Wildbow’s work. Very impressively written though!**

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Because of the War

Chapter Three

The Curtain Rises

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"…can't fucking believe this shit! Fucking PRT, how is this fucking city going to get any better if they force us to sit around for publicity stunts instead of hunting the gangs down?!" Sophia Hess, the former vigilante and freshly 'recruited' Protectorate Ward Shadow Stalker, grumbled angrily as she paced back and forth, hands flinched into fists.

"We're lucky that we were able to get that much done for you. Dad's not exactly trained for anything besides gouging people -or preventing gouging, as the case may be- in divorces." Emma Barnes said as sympathetically as humanly possible, running a hand through her crimson hair as she watched her savior and friend from where she was perched on her bed. "If they weren't so desperate for capes, you'd be in lockup for some time yet."

Sophia grunted her acknowledgement of the point, as displeased as she was to admit it. The Protectorate had been quick to throw their full weight at her the minute she roughed up a would-be rapist in 'their' territory. They never lifted a finger outside of the rich neighborhoods, but God forbid someone stops crime besides them near the Boardwalk. If she hadn't been there to put a bolt through his shoulder, his victim probably would have been raped and beaten, if not killed outright.

Though she would never tell her companion aloud, she had come to value Emma and the moments of total normality together immensely. Despite how much she enjoyed being Shadow Stalker and doing something to cure this city of its infection, she had forgotten how nice being 'just Sophia' was. It helped that Emma was easy on the eyes without being a useless, self-righteous asshat like the rest of her new 'teammates' of both genders were.

She hated it and them, and she would be damned if she would let them stop her from helping purge the filth out of her home. How long would it take for the so-called 'heroes' to realize that their wishy-washy, cops and robbers style bullshit was causing more suffering than anything else? This was a war, and the PRT failed to acknowledge it as such. Small wonder more heroes died than villains, 'Unwritten Rules' be damned. Hell, the Unwritten Rules were a colossal joke, except for the one about targeting families. The idea of someone hurting her Mom just to get at her terrified her more than she could ever admit.

The sound of the downstairs door opening a little violently had both of them frowning in concern and curiosity, as Emma's parents weren't due for several more hours. Sophia quietly slinked over to her bag and pulled out one of her signature crossbows, already loaded and ready to fire.

"Emma, get your ass down here!" a female voice both girls recognized easily roared up the stairs, and Emma shot to her feet, eyes wide.

"Well, you wanted her to grow a spine and confront you. You wanted her to get the DWA involved in helping this city. Looks like part one is working out quite nicely." Sophia deadpanned in dry amusement, getting a scowl in response, which only amused her further.

"I knew I should have moved that spare key around…" Emma grumbled, heading for the stairs. Eager to watch the impending 'discussion', Sophia secured her bow and followed closely.

"Right, what the hell happened while I was at camp?" Taylor asked bluntly as they entered the room, arms folded over her chest, and Sophia had to put effort into remaining passive when she saw the face of Hebert's companion.

Canary, the Singing Master. Armsmaster and Piggot had sent out bulletins that the pop star had relocated to the Docks, and now a beautiful blonde of similar body type was showing up with the first daughter of the DWA. The question was: why? Was Taylor Mastered, and Canary was after the two of them now?

"What do you mean, Hebert? I grew…" Emma started her scripted spiel, but Taylor cut her off promptly and a little harshly.

"Enough with the bullshit, Emma! Something big, something bad happened while I was gone! Something to do with her." She snapped, turning her eyes onto the dark-skinned track star. The cold steel lurking within startled Sophia, given the way Taylor had silently departed when Emma first verbally attacked her. It seemed almost out of character, based on her own experience with the ravenette. "So what is it, Emma? Did she hurt you, threaten you? You don't need to worry about it anymore if she is."

"Oh, and what if I did? What would you do about it, huh?" Sophia scoffed before Emma could say a word, baiting the red-head's former best friend. "Gonna call the cops, huh?"

"No, no, I don't think that would be necessary immediately." Taylor's smile had rather more teeth in it than was entirely polite. Sophia suddenly had the impression of being face to face with someone rather more dangerous that herself. "You think that because I didn't fight with Emma a couple months ago means that you can do as you please? I know her, I love her, and I'm willing to let her actions go."

The implication was clear and had a very definitive edge to it. Sophia had zero importance or value to Taylor as is. If she was a threat, she would be dealt with in one way or another. It was equally clear that Taylor was one of those individuals who cared far more about others than she did herself. Given who worked for her father, Sophia considered that it might be wise to explain the whole of the situation. Rapidly. Before she found the DWA after her head with few scruples for messing with their boss' daughter and said daughter's best friend.

"You never did hesitate to jump into a fight for me." Emma sighed, dropping the 'nasty teen bitch' act entirely with a slight slumping of her shoulders. As those cold, hard green eyes shifted away, and Sophia let out a breath she didn't realize that she had been holding. Taylor, it seemed, could be very scary when she wanted or needed to. "It's a long, fucked up story…"

"We have time. I've put this off for far, far too long. I owed it to our friendship to try and figure out what happened right away, but I didn't" Taylor sounded deeply and genuinely regretful. Emma's face twisted into a scowl at that, and Sophia recalled how angry, and how deeply hurt, Emma had been when Taylor had just walked away and ignored her those past few weeks.

"Yes, you damn well fucking did!" the amateur model bit out harshly, folding her arms and looking away as her jaw worked. "Maybe I didn't handle it the best," a truly massive understatement. "You didn't even try figure out was going on! You just left! Just like you did when Auntie A died!"

Taylor stiffened at the old nickname for her mother, mouth tightening and eyes darkening. Part of her wanted to lash out at the other girl for using such an intimate and affectionate for her mother after a not-insignificant betrayal, but she wasn't really here for a fight. She wanted and needed answers, that was why she had come.

"You were an emotionless wreck, barely existing. Just wandering from one thing to the next aimlessly. You didn't care about anything, no matter what I did to try and get you to laugh, or cry, or even just talk to me, you never did!" the gates had been thrown open, the torrent of emotion unlocked and unfettered now, to flow freely. "You were as dead as your mother was; they just hadn't buried you yet! You were either going to kill yourself or get yourself killed by being in the worst place at the worst time!"

Everyone noticed the way that Taylor flinched guiltily, subconsciously acknowledging the fact that Emma was right. She had been suicidal, at least mildly so. She didn't doubt that she would have steadily grown worse without Paige's interventions, especially this one. Oh no, Emma's fears were not unfounded in the least, she was deeply ashamed to admit. And it was obvious to everyone.

"I was running out of ideas to help you, to force you to wake up and live again. You remember you called me, while you were at summer camp? Remember how the call dropped? Well, that's because the ABB cornered me and Dad. I was going to be an 'initiation present' for a group of them." Paige and Sophia both were given the opportunity to see what an enraged Taylor Hebert looked like with no small amount of concern. It was rapidly become apparent that Hebert had the potential to be quite dangerous if a friend was threatened, and likely quite ruthless as well. What made her so dangerous wasn't her anger (it was perfectly natural, all of them knew Emma meant she was going to be gang-raped and possibly killed or kidnapped for 'continued use') but the fact that she controlled her anger rather than the other way around. Someone blinded by emotion is easily dealt with, but someone who could use controlled emotion to fuel their actions was truly dangerous.

"I saw them while I was out and got involved…" Sophia added, quite sure that she was being sufficiently vague to conceal her identity, but when Taylor's eyes (now distinctly calculating) locked onto her and Emma winced, she felt a distinct chill spike its way down her spine.

"The only way you could have stopped a group of ABB was if you were a capable fighter, a Cape, or both. ABB initiations never happen in PRT territory, so it wasn't as if you made enough noise to bring them in to save the lot of you. Tall, athletic, African American, highly confrontational. There is, was¸ only one Rogue vigilante that fits that description in Brockton Bay."

"We used to joke that Taylor and her parents could be Thinkers without having powers. They've been leading the DWA for decades, and they really know how to piece things together. Give them enough information and they'll come up with a good guess." Emma commented to her baffled and wide-eyed compatriot. "They've had to, to stay alive and protect their people."

"Hardly a Thinker. It was easy to guess where mom hid the cookies when we were younger. No, we've been keeping an eye out for potential threats or allies and Shadow Stalker crossed our desk." She shrugged almost lazily, as if it was perfectly normal for her to help monitor individuals in the city and their potential. "Anyone else wouldn't have been able to guess quite so easily without the information our people have. You might want to be careful though. It won't be too hard for anyone paying enough attention to gather the information they need to ID you."

"What do you mean, Taylor?" Paige asked, curious about her friend's reasoning. Given the amount of information that the DWA, and presumably the other powers of the city, had that most citizens didn't…well, it didn't make sense that anyone else could figure it out quite so easily.

"With Sophia's basic description and the fact that Emma's father represented Shadow Stalker in her juvenile court hearing (a matter of public record) to keep her out of jail, well that will be more than enough for people like Kaiser to put all the pieces together eventually. Forced recruitment won't be a problem from him for obvious reasons, but…" Taylor let her voice trail off, her meaning clear, and Sophia swore savagely. She hadn't even considered how obvious it was for an athletic black girl to start hanging out nearly 24/7 with the daughter of the man who had kept the only black teen vigilante out of juvie. It was terrifyingly obvious now that it had been pointed out to her.

"Fuck! I can't believe we didn't think of that." She groaned, kneading her forehead as her mind raced across the implications. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! I need to talk to Armsmaster, and fast…"

"Better to talk to Miss Militia, tell her that the DWA had it figured out already and that the PRT needs to pull contingencies together to protect you and your family. Otherwise, we might need to take responsibility for their safety." Taylor suggested with a cunning glint and a small smirk. "They'll throw themselves around trying to keep us inside of our safe little box."

"…you scare me, you honestly do. I can't believe I ever told Emma you were a spineless loser." The newest Ward shook her head in disbelief. She had thought that she had the other girl pegged, but that clearly hadn't been the case. In fact, it was quite clear that she had never been more wrong in her life. She would be utterly thrilled if it weren't for the fact that she was really rather confident in her supposition of how Taylor would feel about Sophia's 'Predator versus Prey' mentality.

She wasn't wrong.

"I don't know whether to laugh, cry, or slap you. That is the most insane shit that I have ever heard." Taylor's blunt appraisal had Sophia scowling and Emma flushing. "Look I understand what you're trying to say, that risking your life for people unwilling to stick up for themselves is futile. That you have to perform triage and save those most likely to survive outside of your protection."

She paused and Sophia nodded with a murmured acknowledgment. She had almost died several times for the sake of an utterly cowed victim. Why should she die for someone like Alan Barnes, who didn't even try to fight when his daughter was about to be gang-raped? What was the point in trying to save someone who would just roll over and die the next day? How could she risk dying for such a person, condemning who knows how many people to death because she wasn't there to help save them in their moment of danger?

"That's not being a hero, Sophia, that's anti-heroic at best. Didn't the PRT assign you some sort of therapy after you got arrested? I mean, whatever happened to make to make you Trigger had to be the reason enough. Never mind that you joined because you got arrested!"

"Of course I'm not a hero like the PRT, why would I want to be? What have heroes as a whole really accomplished besides dying young and often? The 'Protectorate' is more inclined to attend press events than to solve problems, and they let the fucking Nazis and the Triad runs around unchecked to 'keep the balance'. They refuse to do anything but break up fights when they feel like it." Sophia spat furiously, voicing her earlier thoughts and fully aware that Taylor agreed with her on some level. The inherent cruelty of Sophia's philosophy aside, the Ward's rant was remarkably similar to the beliefs of the DWA in reference to the uselessness of the authorities. Really, compared to some capes, a glorified triage concept barely registered on the scale of moral outrage, though she certainly wasn't going to let it stand as is. Sophia could be better than this, without a doubt, she just needed a guiding hand.

"As for therapy, no one really gets any, not unless they pay for it themselves. Not enough funding here in The Bay for anything but basic services, and all they really do is make sure we aren't starting to have villainous leanings. The only therapist in the entire state licensed for capes lives here in The Bay. You want to get outed in a minute or less? Walk into her office and match a cape's basic description." At Paige's appalled and shocked look, she sneered. "Oh yeah, the great and glorious PRT doesn't supply therapists to our lovely little shithole! Kids getting superpowers because they were almost raped? Sure, no problem, let's throw them into life or death situations before handing them back to their parents with a pat on the head! Pretty fucking heroic of them, don't you think?”

"I'm gladder than ever that I decided to stay with you and your Dad instead." Paige mumbled softly to Taylor, before sighing and clapping her hands sharply. "Right, enough serious business for today. This is obviously not to be solved by a single conversation. We're going to the mall."

With a display of persuasiveness that belied the need for any sort of Master power on her part, Paige soon had all three of them out the door and on the bus to the mall, located near the center of the city. Given both the extant it had already been covered, and the incredibly public venue, further discussion in regards to the large, complicated situation were put on hold. Instead, they settled for normal, if somewhat stilted, conversation. Utterly unaware of all the eyes on them

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Agent Epsilon, to use his assigned codename, was the current Intelligence specialist tasked by Coil to observe the Person of Interest codenamed 'Tweetybird', and he was rather uncomfortable. Oh, it wasn't, as most would think, due to the hard plastic seats of the bus on which they were seated, but rather the mission he was currently assigned to. He was damn good at his job, and it paid extremely well, but the very idea of stalking girls his own daughters' ages made him deeply unhappy indeed. Still, he knew better than to cross Coil, and he needed the money desperately. Sacrifices made for family were well worth making.

It hadn't been easy getting onto their tails with the handful of minutes warning he had received from his compatriots as they left the Docks. Fortunately, the girls had remained at the Barnes household long enough for him to get there and prepare to tail them further. Shock of shocks, they were now on their way to the mall. Nothing of value had been gleaned from bending an ear to their current conversation, as it consisted of the same mind-numbing stuff he had come to expect from his girls and their friends. Somehow he doubted his boss would care about what celebrities (Earth Aleph and Earth Bet) were considered 'hottest', but he would dutifully report it nonetheless.

Three hours later, when he tiredly seated himself at an empty table in the cafeteria as his marks sat down to eat, he swore to himself that he would try to foist future shopping trips with his daughters off onto his wife. He couldn't comprehend how someone could spend so much time doing something without actually accomplishing anything in the end! They had hardly even bought anything, just tried stuff on and complimented one another! It was maddening!

Damned if he hadn't felt like a total pedophile, though at least he had come up with some ideas of what outfits and brands were 'in' for his own girls. Hopefully, the Boss would understand that the lack of useful information in his report was due to no fault of his own. Hell, maybe the HVT's favorite jeans brand would reveal some sort of deep insight into her methods of thought. Fucking Thinkers could figure important shit out from pointless details all the time.

Fortunately for his blood pressure, he was utterly unaware that one of those fucking Thinkers was staring at him from across the room at that very moment. Blonde and slim with bright blue eyes, she was a stereotypical Nordic beauty with a penchant for sly humor and a hatred for their mutual boss.

 ** _'One of Coil's agents, not here to watch us.'_** Her Thinker power told her coolly. **_'Watching that blonde girl and her friends. Paige McAbee, aka Canary. Obvious target for Coil's 'recruitment'.'_**

**_'Signs of deference to the green-eyed ravenette next to her, but not lovers…yet. Attraction is there, but not yet acknowledged even by themselves. They trust each other implicitly. Other girl has helped, protected her. Abusive boyfriend? Most likely.'_ **

**_'African-American. Tall, athletic build, uncomfortable in social situations. Cape? Not a member of a gang, so…fuck me, that's Shadow Stalker, and the redhead next to her is a Cape too. Thinker? Insufficient Data to conclude. Redhead defers naturally to Shadow Stalker and Green-Eyes. Awkward tension between green-eyes and red-head. Close friends/sisters, trying to make up after an argument and spat of cold shouldering.'_ **

_'Well, well, well.'_ Lisa Wilbourn, aka the Thinker-class parahuman called Tattletale, mused to herself as she looked at the girl who happened to be Taylor Hebert. _'You have some very interesting companions, but why? You don't have any powers, so you aren't a cape team leader. No signs of control through intimidation, in fact it's just the opposite. Admiration and affection from two of them, and grudging respect tinged with…fear? No, wariness. Shadow Stalker's impression of you has been forcefully proven false, in a way that made her to respect and instinctively tread carefully around you.'_

Lisa was fascinated. This situation defied explanation with her current data. Everyone knew just how reluctant Shadow Stalker had been to join The Wards, given that it was more or less literally at gunpoint. The girl just didn't like being bossed around or intimidated, yet here she was willingly spending time with someone who apparently (if subtly) did exactly that. This was a puzzle, one that she had no definitive answer for. It was delightful! She very rarely had situations like this, and she certainly never stumbled across them simply by virtue of going to the mall with her teammates!

"Stop staring, you horny fox. You're going to start drooling in about a minute." Alec, better known to the world as Regent, a Master-class cape and professional asshole, sniped at her from his seat across the table.

"Fuck you, minute man. You're just pouting because I don't think your needle-dick is worth taking pity on. Not my fault you're not worth ogling. Besides, tell me that group doesn't look damn good." She retorted almost absently, glancing briefly at the Undersider's nominal leader, Brian LaBorne, aka the Shaker-class Grue, as he snorted at her riposte.

He, like her, was a deeply reluctant villain, doing crimes only because 'that man' told him that, with the connections 'that man' possessed, getting custody of one Aisha LaBorne would be much, much easier. He, again like her, was basically a good person in a bad situation and struggling to survive despite it. Not to say Alec and Rachel (aka the Master-class Hellhound/Bitch) were bad people, but they were somewhat unusual cases compared to most people. Alec's father, the truly, inhumanly evil Heartbreaker, had…well, mind-fucked was a crude but rather accurate summation, mind-fucked him into Triggering and it had resulted in the French-Canadian youth becoming virtually incapable of emotional attachment. Rachel, by virtue of her power, simply thought more like a canine that she did a human. Obviously, that tended to create difficulties in situations requiring a bit more finesse than a black-and-white view of the world.

"None of them are exactly ugly, no." the darkness-caster agreed, eyes lingering for a moment on green-eyes, before shifting to meet Lisa's own. "I hope you're not going to do anything stupid, Lisa. Might be hard to explain the whole villain thing to a new girlfriend."

"Bah, you have no sense of romance or drama! Live a little, man!" Lisa stuck her tongue out at him, actually relieved for once that Regent was baiting her over her bisexuality. She was…oddly reluctant to share her true thoughts with her companions, especially the sociopathic Master. "Besides which, I'm allowed to have friends outside of you lot without only wanting to get into their pants."

The entire group ignored Alec's dismissive snort. He was incapable of caring for someone emotionally, so approaching strangers of suitable attractiveness for anything but sex (or some other, suitably materialistic desire) was utterly foreign to him. They had long since learned to ignore his opinion about this sort of thing…or anything regarding emotions or morals, really. Lisa glanced over at Coil's agent again with an imperceptible scowl. She would dearly love to introduce herself to this group of puzzles even now, but he would doubtless report someone of her features did so, and she didn't need her power to know that Coil couldn't know about her own interest in them. Thanks to Grue, she didn't even need to come up with an excuse to avoid introducing herself there and now.

"Well, you'll have to wait to chat with her another time, because you're not doing it today. We've got work to do in a few hours. That is what our focus should be on right now." He said, half chastising her, and she sighed theatrically despite her relief and nodded in acceptance. Coil's agent aside, her personal interest in the group certainly couldn't get in the way of the Undersider's continued safety, which was only assured so long as the group was useful to Coil.

"If you insist, oh mighty leader, if you insist. Doesn't mean I'm going to stop staring. With you and Alec as the only other options for scenery, I know which view I'll pick every single time." She agreed, smirking as the two males grumbled at her teasing.

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Taylor and Emma spent the next two weeks re-forging their friendship, both grateful that their separation had been as brief and (relatively) painless as it had been. With only a net length of a couple of months of not having spoken with one another, there was little damage that needed repairing. As Paige had once commented to Emma and Sophia whilst Taylor was out of the room, most friendships had an argument and some cold-shouldering every once in a while. Hell, most families did that!

Emma, likewise, had made it clear how large a debt she felt she owed Paige for not only being there for Taylor, but for creating the confrontation that had brought everything to light, and probably in doing so had saved a treasured relationship. With some logic to balance out Sophia's more…inventive ideas about the world, both the redhead and the Ward had started to stabilize, though not without some reluctance and obstinacy for Sophia's part.

She still held quite tightly onto her ideals, though she had been forced to concede that doing nothing while others suffered right in front of her was as bad, if not worse, than causing said suffering in the first place. She hadn't appreciated hearing that in the least, of course, but she had been forced to concede it none the less. Mostly, she was rather relieved that she had been able to share her story with someone other than Emma. Keeping it locked up inside had hurt and damaged her more than she had thought possible until she began to share it and heal from it. It had, in fact, been nearly identical to Emma's own story, save for the fact that she had been attacked by the Empire 88, and they had gotten much closer than the ABB had to the young Barnes. Oh, she hadn't been raped, but it had been close. She had been naked and restrained when she Triggered, mere moments from having her innocence ripped away.

Tonight, a scant few days before their new school year would begin, Taylor had elected to take Paige out to the movies. Despite living together, she didn't doubt that their time together would grow somewhat tight, as the diva took online courses to maintain her anonymity. Despite Emma's constant teasing and sly comments, Taylor continued to insist to herself that this was not a date, even if they were going to have dinner before the movie. Together. Without her dad or their two friends. There was nothing romantic about her paying for dinner and an Earth Aleph import that Paige desperately wanted to see called Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, The Ultimate Directors Cut. It absolutely didn't…

Taylor sighed to herself. It totally felt and sounded like a date, which would bear deeper contemplation at a later da…uh, time. The point was, she wanted her personal hero (arguably savior, to be perfectly honest) to feel neglected or abandoned. Not after how much she had done for Taylor, for Emma. As they walked into the theater together, she happily reflected that her life had really turned around, at long last.

She would later reflect that she was a God-damned fool for tempting Fate so blatantly. Of course, she had no idea how many eyes were on her and Paige, how much Fate had decided to lay at her feet, and in the end it didn't matter. It happened all the same.

############################################################

Orders were sent out. Eugene Baker was released without fanfare and sent on his way from California, where he immediately set out for Brockton Bay, Massachusetts with bitter vengeance in his heart for his former girlfriend's 'betrayal'. Coil's agents within the Empire and Azn Bad Boyz coaxed groups of their compatriots towards a conflict site near the theater while a special Anti-Master squad of his mercenaries readied themselves for a capture mission that would take place in the midst of a full-fledged firefight between two major gangs. It wouldn't be easy by any stretch of the imagination, but it was the only time for the foreseeable future to fulfill Coil's objectives.

Another group of three two-man sniper teams were sent to ensure that their cover conflict was actually started. A pair of well-timed and well-placed shots would ensure both sides would be out for blood and vengeance against one another. Hopefully his agents within the gangs would survive the battle, but quite frankly it was a side-benefit and nothing more. Unofficial inside agents were easily replaceable.

Three hours later (when the marquee had said "Ultimate Directors Cut", they weren't kidding!) everything was in place and the objectives were moving into the combat zone. 100 ABB and Empire members (fifty each, nice and even for maximum carnage) were snarling away at each other, and the bag team was in place. All that was required was a little push, and so a shot rang out. A bloody hole replaced the ABB group leader's heart, leaving his subordinates starting. Another shot, for all appearances on revenge on the ABB's part, felled the head skinhead present in the same fashion. There was a moment of shocked stillness as both sides processed what had just happened, before they hurled themselves at one another with howls of rage and chattering gunfire.

With spotters feeding them information, the bag team quickly found the two teenaged girls sheltering inside of a small alleyway. A pair of tranquilizer darts had the blond unconscious in seconds. As the ravenette cried out in anger and fear, a pair of well-placed 9mm bullets slammed into her body, one in the shoulder and another in the stomach.

Fatal wounds, but ones that could pass for the average gang-bangers capabilities. Too professional, awkward questions would arise. Too sloppy, and she might survive. A delicate balance only doable by those who actually knew what they were doing.

Leaving her bleeding on the ground to die, they gathered up the package and moved out. Had they stayed a few moments longer, they might have seen the cloak of cobalt-blue energy wrapping around the ravenette as she reached out to the unconscious form they carried.

Taylor Hebert's focus was not on her pain, nor the life-blood seeping from her flesh, nor even her imminent demise, but rather that people had taken Paige from her. They were going to hurt her singer, just like Emma and Sophia had been hurt. Anger swept through her, a raging fury fueled by a desire to protect the innocent, to protect her family, and a craving to punish those who were evil.

Deep within her, the Ethereal-twisted {Queen Administrator} finally achieved [Connection] with its Host, with the dual purposes of [Defend the Innocent] and [Swift Justice to Evil] Like a flower it blossomed, and as it blossomed the world trembled before the shifting tide.

########################################################

 

Klaxons blared, crimson lights strobed and crew shouted to and over one another in the kind of organized chaos only achievable by the military as the Avenger went to Red Alert.

"Get that Skyranger off the deck! Move, damn you!" Central Officer Bradley, second in command of XCOM and captain of the formerly xenos airship Avenger roared from his place on the bridge. "Get me access to satellite, traffic cams, the internet…if it can feed us or The Commander intel, I want it!"

"Central, Firebrand. En-route to mission zone, patching you through to Menace 1-5." The voice of the Skyranger dropship's pilot crackled over the comm., and the central holotank displayed a half dozen grim-faced XCOM elites.

"Menace 1-5, your orders are to secure and stabilize the Commander, eliminate any and all hostiles in the AO, and rescue the VIP I, known as Canary. Sweep and located any injured civilians after pacifying the area and mark with flares for local assistance." He instructed briskly, saluting as their images faded out to be replaced by the demanded feeds.

On the Skyranger, the six women of Menace 1-5 waited to deploy anxiously, fearful that their Commander (their mother, in a very real if bizarre sense, as they were born of her power) would die before they arrived. Influenced by Taylor's subconscious, the squad leader looked remarkably similar to (and was named for) a certain Israeli character in a certain Earth Aleph TV show.

This was Ziva 'Archangel' David, a Sharpshooter who was as lethal with knives and fists as she was with her high-powered, highly modified anti-material sniper rifle. She, and indeed the rest of the squad, were armed and armored in what would appear to be nothing more than slightly more advanced versions of the 'real world's' current-gen gear.

Then there were Alaisia and Alessia Gae, twin grenadiers from Ireland that specialized in softening targets with rotary cannons and grenade launchers. Identical twins with red hair and green eyes, one could easily pass for the other. In suiting with their…explosive personalities and methods of combat, they had elected to go by 'Nitro' and 'Glycerin' when in the field.

Ishtar 'Bloodsong' Inanna, the Turkish Ranger of the squad, named for the ancient Mesopotamian goddess of sex and war. Dark skinned and often silent, she preferred to strike from the shadows with her short sword rather than relying on her shotgun or sidearm.

Frea 'Morphine' Fensalir, a (natural) platinum blond from Norway that served as the squad's combat medic, though she preferred to be called a 'Medical Markswoman', as she toted a sniper rifle and GREMLIN drone into battle along with her nanomedikits.

Finally, there was Kelly 'Whisper' Venoct, a Specialist who was rather gifted with hacking and using her GREMLIN to harass, stun, or even kill enemy targets. When push came to shove, the Boston-born soldier was more than capable with her own assault rifle to defend herself.

"ETA 10 seconds. 80 estimated hostiles in plainclothes with a total of twelve firearms. The rest are armed with baseball bats or other blunt instruments. Weapons are free, no Rules of Engagement. Wipe them all out." Archangel informed her squad solemnly, putting on her tactical visor and gesturing for them to do the same. "Synch HUDS, sound off when ready."

One by one the squad announced their preparedness, bolts cycled and HUDs online as the Skyranger came in to a hover and the rear hatch opened, ropes falling from their coils to dangle over the emptiness. Taking a running start, they leapt, gripped, and slid down the dangling cords, landing around their Commander and drawing their weapons smoothly. As Freya knelt beside the bleeding form of Taylor, Ziva made for the nearest roof and Ishtar melted into the shadows.

"Ready to make some noise, sister mine?" Alaisa queried, grinning broadly at her twin and racking her cannon in favor of her grenade launcher.

"Sister, how could you ask a question with such an obvious answer? Of course I am! I'll go first then, shall I?" Alessai snorted in response, before striding out of the alleyway and pumping out two grenades in rapid succession. Explosions tore half-a-dozen men apart as she and her comrades advanced. Their enemies were dead; their hearts simply hadn't stopped beating yet.

With Archangel on the rooftops picking off runners or gunners, Bloodsong was free to hunt down the VIP's kidnappers. A Flashbang had them reeling, and she darted in, shotgun blasts killing two before she drove her blade through the heart of the third. Plucking the VIP from his grip as he fell, she holstered her shotgun at the small of her back, her sword across her shoulder blades, and settled the blonde into a bridal carry.

"Bloodsong to Central, VIP secure, all kidnappers dead. Moving to the RV point."

_"Confirmed. The Commander has been stabilized. After dropping the VIP off, you're on SAR with Morphine. Mark injured or trapped civilians with red flares for local law enforcement."_

"Understood, Central, Bloodsong out."

Setting off at a brisk walk, the Ranger headed back the way she came, screams and gunshots and explosions echoing around her as her comrades annihilated the enemy.

A new power had come to the Bay.

#################################################################################

**Another chapter done! I gotta say, there are quite a few things that annoyed me about canon, not the least of which is that NO ONE noticed (or at least it wasn't mentioned in the story if they did) that someone matching Shadow Stalker's description started hanging out with the daughter of the lawyer that kept her out of juvie and got her into the Wards. I mean, c'mon!**

**I also pity Sophia rather than hating her. She is delusional, but she genuinely believed that her philosophy was the best way to live in Brockton Bay, and I can't say that she is wrong. I mean, it's utterly immoral and appalling, but that's the whole point of Worm, isn't it? People doing terrible things for theoretically good reasons?**

**Of course, in canon she and Emma have gone from being just damaged people in need of help to outright evil, villainous psychos, but that isn't the case in this story because of the adjusted time frame. I do truly believe they wanted to help Taylor in the beginning, but gave up on her when she didn't react as planned and just decided to torture her instead.**

**If it wasn't clear, I am not a huge fan of the PRT. I realize that, in Brockton Bay specifically, they are being deliberately crippled by Cauldron as a testing ground for cape feudalism, but still. There are ways to provide at the very least basic stuff like counseling for literal teenaged soldiers.**

**As another note, Menace 1-5 is made up of the 6 woman squad I use in the game, with of course the 7th and 8th members not being introduced yet because Taylor doesn't have those upgrades. Starting with six rather than four for the sake of story and, well, balance. Let's just assume Asaru gave Taylor some upgrades with the base game, as it were :P**

**In reference to some of their names, Ziva David is obviously from NCIS, Alaisiagae was a twin female deity(ies) of war in Celtic lore. Two goddesses that went by a single name, basically. Alessia is predominantly from The Elder Scrolls. Ishtar and Inanna were the Babylonian and Sumerian goddesses of love, beauty, sex, desire, fertility, war, combat, and political power. Basically the same deity, just different name for the two different regions. Finally, Frea is another name for Frigg, the Norse goddess of war, death, and (sometimes) healing, with Fensalir being the name of Frigg's hall in Valhalla.**

 

 

 


	4. PHO Interlude #1

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Topic: World War Brockton

In: Boards ► Places ► Brockton Bay ► Forums ► PSAs ► Danger Zones

Sothoth (Original Poster)

Posted On Aug 31st 2008:

Jesus, Allah, Jehovah, Kami, and anything else I can possibly pray to: please let me survive the night!

 

Seriously, if I die, remember me fondly and toast to my memory, because I swear to all that is holy World War Three is about to break out near my house!

 

The ABB is making a push into Empire territory. That, or they're looking to start a fight for the sake of a fight instead of a land grab. There's like thirty or forty of each outside now!

 

(Showing page 1 of 10)

 

►Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

Hang in there, buddy! We're all praying for you, and the authorities are probably gearing up to run them off! Just stay low, stay away from the windows, and try to avoid drawing attention to yourself!

 

►Miss Mercury (Protectorate Employee)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

Bagrat is correct, we highly advise you and your neighbors to barricade yourselves in your homes. As we speak, PRT, Protectorate, and BBPD strike teams are preparing to intervene. Have you spotted any Parahumans belonging to either gang in the vicinity?

 

►Sothoth (Original Poster)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

No ma'am, just gangbangers. Not a lot of guns, mostly bats, knives, and that kind of thing. At least from what I've seen so far. Believe me, we're not going ANYWHERE until everything is over, and then some.

 

►Coyote-C

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

It's gonna take them a while to be able to shut down that many bangers, but what I can't figure out is why ABB is being this aggressive! They've never exactly shied away from conflict with The Merchants or The Empire, but sending thirty guys into Empire territory and literally asking for a fight is pretty out there!

 

►Sothoth (Original Poster)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

UPDATE: They're starting to actually fight now, looks like something out of Lord of The Rings from Earth Aleph. Just...chaos. I dunno how they aren't hitting their own people as much as they are the enemy!

 

►Dawgsmiles (Veteran Member)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

I betcha that capes are on their way. No chance that a fight this size would break out with neither gang planning on bringing in parahuman support. You and your family should get ready to bail out the back just in case. Collateral damage to the rest of us isn't really something that the gangs care that much about...

 

►Miss Mercury (Protectorate Employee)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

While we prefer for all civilians to shelter in place and keep themselves out of the line of fire, attempts to flee the area should parahumans begin fighting at full power is acceptable if deemed necessary. Please do so in an orderly and cohesive fashion in order to expedite assistance of any kind from the authorities.

 

►Good Ship Morpheus

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

In other words, if Lung and/or Oni Lee show up and start blowing things up or setting them on fire, get the fuck outta there. Sheltering in place or trying to preserve your property ain't worth your life, and nothing you can do would save your place anyway if it gets hit by a cape. Things like walls and windows don't really tend to slow them down all that much.

 

►Tin Mother (Moderator)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

While normally I would be issuing a warning for the swearing thus far, I think that it's permissible under the circumstances. However, if we can try to keep this calm and clean it would be preferable. Best wishes to you and yours, Sothoth. Help will be there soon, I'm sure of it!

 

►Sothoth (Original Poster)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

Oh...my...God! I dunno what's going on, but I saw a group of three guys trying to carry some girl out of an alley over one of their shoulders tied up, and this group of...I dunno, fucking Navy SEALs or something just came in out of nowhere! They're slaughtering everyone on both sides!

 

►Sothoth (Original Poster)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

FUCK! They're using fucking GRENADE LAUNCHERS! What the fuck is going on? Who are these guys? Are you seeing this shit?

 

Pictures:

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Streaming on Friendpage:

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►Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

Holy shit! The bangers are dropping like flies! You see that gear and armor? Those aren't cops! Miss Mercury, are they your people?

 

►Miss Mercury (Protectorate Employee)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

No, they aren't. All of our assets are still enroute to the conflict site. Please continue monitoring the situation with your video recording device so long as it is safe to do so. The situation is obviously evolving, and you are the only source of current visual information we have.

 

►Central Officer Bradley (XCOM Second In Command) (Verified XCOM)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

All civilians and unauthorized combatants are advised to avoid the combat zone until the situation has been resolved and all threats have been pacified. Combating members of the illegal criminal organizations known as the 'Azn Bad Boyz' and 'Empire Eighty-Eight' are currently being engaged by XCOM commandos with all necessary force.

 

Emergency response personnel are advised that several civilians have already been caught in the crossfire and sustained heavy injury. Immediate medical assistance will be required in order to ensure their survival upon your arrival.

 

►Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

What...the...actual...FUCK? XCOM? Who the fuck are you guys? And why do I get the feeling any explanation would involve the words 'classified', 'black ops', and 'can neither confirm nor deny?'

Seriously, do we have fucking black-baggers running around in Brockton Bay? Because if so, I'm scared shitless!

 

►Central Officer Bradley (XCOM Second In Command) (Verified XCOM)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

That is classified. XCOM can neither confirm nor deny its existence, purpose, numbers, or any other operation details beyond the fact that we are allies to good and enemies of evil.

 

XCOM would also like to reassure all civilians and heroes of Brockton Bay and the world at large that our arms will never be raised against those who are innocent and helpless. It is our duty to protect them, not harm them.

 

The situation will be resolved very shortly. Thank you for your patience.

 

►Miss Mercury (Protectorate Employee)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

Authorities will be there within moments. Central, whoever you and your compatriots are, you are hereby instructed to cease hostilities and remand yourselves to the custody of law enforcement peacefully.

 

►Central Officer Bradley (XCOM Second In Command) (Verified XCOM)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

With all due respect, neither you nor your superiors are within my chain of command. The situation has been resolved, all hostiles have been pacified. First aid has been applied to several badly injured civilians, the locations of which will be marked by red flares.

 

►Sothoth (Original Poster)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

They're gone. I can't see anything but some flares inside a couple buildings and a shit ton of bodies. Whoever they are, they can move like ninjas. One minute they were there, the next they were gone.

 

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 8, 9, 10

 

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Topic: DWA On The March

In: Boards ► Places ► Brockton Bay ► Forums ► Gangs ► The Dockworker's Association

Bagrat (Original Poster) (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)

Posted On Aug 31st 2008:

I don't want to offend The Docksmaster, obviously, because he is actually a pretty cool guy and his people scare the shit out of me, but there isn't another Forum topic I can really put this in right now.

 

I know you guys aren't a gang, quite the opposite! Please don't keelhaul me!

 

Begging for my life completed, what's going on? A friend of mine just called me to tell me that the ENTIRE DWA has been mustered out, armed and ready for a fight, to start locking down their territory.

 

Are you guys breaking your neutrality and going after the gangs or something?

 

(Showing page 1 of 1)

 

►Dockwatcher (Veteran Member) (Verified DWA)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

Relax, The Boss won't keelhaul you, we know that we don't really fit in to any of the other categories here in The Bay. Probably ;)

 

That being said, the DWA is deploying because someone just shot Little Boss twice by the Cinema. She's on her way to the ER now, and The Boss is PISSED. Just in case this is the prelude to a full attack on our people, we got called out to secure our borders with extreme prejudice. That big shooting war Sothoth was talking about in the other thread? That was when she got shot.

 

►Dawgsmiles (Veteran Member)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

Seriously? I really hope for everyone's sake that she got hurt by accident, and that she will be okay, 'cause otherwise I bet things will get really nasty. I wouldn't want you guys after me for any reason, but especially not something like this!

 

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

All victims were stabilized sufficiently in the zone of conflict by the thus-far unknown individuals of the so-called 'XCOM' organization. After transport to local hospitals, all said victims are expected to make full recoveries.

 

The aforementioned, specific victim affiliated with the Dockworker's Association will be treated by Panacea, who has agreed to lend herself and her power despite the lateness of the hour. She is, of course, expected to be in perfect form afterwards.

 

The Dockworker's Association has been in communication with the PRT and assures us that there will be no further hostilities tonight.

 

►Miss Militia (Veteran Member) (Verified Cape) (Protectorate Employee) (Verified Hero)

Replied On Aug 31st 2008:

Reave is correct, I am currently at the hospital with the Head of the DWA, who has personally promised me that he will make no offensive actions and that all movement of the DWA is purely defensive in case of further attacks against those under their authority and protection.

 

The Protectorate and the PRT are, of course, investigating the cause of this horrific act of violence with the able assistance of the Brockton Bay Police Department. Such widespread destruction and violence, while fortunately causing no civilian deaths THIS TIME, will not be tolerated in the least.

 

The PRT further requests no speculation into those responsible for the aforementioned injuries, lest an already volatile situation grow worse.

 

Thank you.

 

End of Page. 1

 

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Topic: XCOM: What We Know

In: Boards ► Locations ► Brockton Bay ► Forums ► Heroes ► Vigilantes

Spiritskin (Original Poster)

Posted On Sep 1st 2008:

So, I'm just putting this here because they obviously aren't a gang or affiliated with the government, and while we have no idea if they have powers, there aren't any categories for vigilante normals on the forums. Mostly cause there really aren't any and haven't been since parahumans started showing up.

 

Anyway, what's up with these XCOM guys? They're obviously not a big fan of the gangs, and they are just as obviously absurdly competent. I mean, 100-ish gang bangers vs (by all accounts) less than a half dozen commandos and ALL the bangers are dead, while the good guys had no casualties. Kudos to them, obviously, but does anyone know ANYTHING about them?

 

Links to Original Thread and Videos/Pictures below

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►Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Sep 1st 2008:

Only what they posted in Sothoth's forum last night during the...well, I can't really call it a battle, can I? Battles aren't that one sided. Anyway, someone claiming to be their Second in Command, a 'Central Officer Bradley' told us that they are 'friends of good and enemies of evil', so that's good I guess. They saved a lot of lives with their little intervention, but no one knows anything more than that and what is obvious by observation.

 

Highly trained, well-equipped, and not prone to leaving enemies alive or capable of continued fighting. I mean, they were RUTHLESS. According to some people I talked to, some of the bangers were shot execution style AFTER the bulk of the fighting was over, and the three would-be kidnappers Sothoth mentioned were all either stabbed by a blade or shot by what they think was a shotgun at point-blank range.

 

Whoever XCOM is, they don't fuck around.

 

►Archangel (Verified XCOM) (Team Leader) (Menace 1-5)

Replied On Sep 1st 2008:

All accurate. My squad and I were deployed to minimize loss of life and bring the conflict to a swift resolution with as few civilian casualties as possible, which by necessity meant using swift and lethal force on all enemy combatants. Central Officer Bradley will be making something of a press release shortly on a thread of his own making here on PHO, but I am authorized to answer LIMITED questions at this time. If I can't answer it, I won't.

 

►Chaosfaith

Replied On Sep 1st 2008:

Yeah, here's one: how the fuck do you guys have the ability to post on PHO?

 

►Sothoth

Replied On Sep 1st 2008:

Who gives a shit how they did it.

 

Miss Archangel, I just want to thank you and your team for what you did. My family might have died if you guys hadn't shown up when you did!

 

Still scared of you though!

 

►Dawgsmiles (Veteran Member)

Replied On Sep 1st 2008:

My question is, who do you guys work for? I mean, there has to be some kind of oversight, black-ops or not! The US, UK, one of the European nations? I mean, no offense to Africa or most of Asia, but the resources, the training, and the inspiration to do what you guys did doesn't really strike me as their work.

 

China, maybe, could do it, but they've basically locked down their borders and ignored the world since the Endbringers started showing up.

 

►Archangel (Verified XCOM) (Team Leader) (Menace 1-5)

Replied On Sep 1st 2008:

Chaosfaith: It was REALLY hard. I had to have an email and everything!

 

Sothoth: Glad to hear that you are all okay, and your thanks (while appreciated) are unnecessary. We were doing our jobs and following orders to protect those who needed it.

 

Dawgsmiles The 2IC will get into it later, but we don't really answer to anyone except The Commander. We have people from every nation, race, and religion you can imagine. I'm from Israel, and my squad has Americans, Danes, Norwegians, Irish, and Turkish soldiers. We protect the world and so we draw our people from the world as a whole.

 

►XxVoid_CowboyxX

Replied On Sep 1st 2008:

She's lying. It's obvious that they're part of a gang intending to take the other gangs out and run the city. They probably work for the DWA. I mean, the same night that REDACTED gets hurt, they show up and kill everybody present?

 

The DWA always sounded like a Mafia with 'The Boss' and that shit anyway, so of course they have mobsters.

 

EDITED by Tin_Mother: Don't use real names on PHO, Void, this isn't anything new. It doesn't matter if you think 'everyone knows', you don't do it. How many times do I have to tell you?

 

►Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Sep 1st 2008:

I knew he would show up eventually. I swear, Void, do you actually DO anything besides sit around on PHO and come up with crazy-ass theories? Because I highly doubt XCOM takes orders from the DWA, or they would have shown up YEARS ago.

 

Archangel Ignore him, the rest of us do. I must admit I'm kind of worried that you only answer to a single man, though. I mean, that sounds like a horror show waiting to happen. Absolute power and all that.

 

►Archangel (Verified XCOM) (Team Leader) (Menace 1-5)

Replied On Sep 1st 2008:

Woman, actually, The Commander would like to make sure people know that bit. I wouldn't worry about anything like that, Bagrat. We meant what we said about wanting to protect people. We're soldiers, not thugs and gangsters. We fight to protect those who can't protect themselves, and The Commander is the most dedicated of us all.

 

That will be all, thank you.


	5. Cry Havoc

**Akritedes: You realize what I did was deliberate for the sake of a significant plot and power development further down the road, yes? Don't think you know where I am going or how relevant a particular character might be, because you are not me. Paige is considered so irrelevant she doesn't even have a Character selection on, but she is centre-stage here. They're far more relevant and thus detail than those 'nameless mooks', even if only to highlight that Taylor's power has created living, breathing individuals with their own hearts, minds, and arguably souls.**

**Linx007: Like the chapter said, it's gonna be a little awkward for a little while, but we have ALL been there and done that with friends and families at some point in our lives. Especially in the teenage years, where you can break up and get back together with the same person three times a week lol.**

**Zaravan: Thank you, and it has been done! Thanks for the advice!**

**Thanks to the advice of Zaravan on A03, this is now also on Spacebattles!**

##########################################################

Because of the War

Chapter Four

Cry Havoc

#########################################################

Brockton Bay was most assuredly no stranger to large scale conflict and violence, either between parahumans or normals. It was almost routine, really, as horrifying as that sounded to any reasonable person. Hell, as horrifying as it actually was, for death and destruction to be so commonplace that it was a strange day when there wasn't some form of violence, some broken or battered family by the time the next day began.

Still, all that being acknowledged, a hundred ABB and E88 thugs doing their level best to flatten a neighborhood in the midst of slaughtering one another was reason enough for a full-scale emergency response. Add in a totally unknown commando unit with enough firepower to slaughter those hundred thugs with laughable ease, and you had the PRT troopers and a handful of heroic capes showing up as well.

And it was a slaughter. The commandos had attacked with grenade launchers, fully automatic rifles, and at least two unique kinds of high-caliber, very high-power weapons of unknown make and model, and (as far as those investigating could gather) not a single 'XCOM' member had been injured or killed in return.

One particular PRT trooper, carbine slung across his back, was on SAR duty for any civilians injured in the fighting (and wasn't it rather nice of XCOM to drop flares at the locations of said civilians?) when he found something that had him swallowing heavily. He, and all other PRT assets in the Bay, had been briefed on the major powers in the city, including the DWA. Which means he recognized one of the unconscious girls before him to be Taylor Hebert…with at least two gunshot wounds.

"This is Hendricks, Grid 12, I need a priority one trauma team to my location STAT. Teenaged female, gunshot wounds to the shoulder and abdomen. Miss Militia to my GPS immediately." He said over his radio as evenly as possible, allowing his training to take hold, pushing nerves to the side. Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for both the hero and the medical personnel to arrive on scene.

"God damn it!" Militia hissed as she identified the victims, echoing his own unvoiced opinion rather handily. Her own nascent fondness for the two girls aside, this could quite literally tear the city apart. If Danny and his people decided they wanted retribution, she didn't think they would be inclined to stop until they got it. The authorities needed to get a handle on this situation now. "Get the other civilians to whatever hospitals can hold them." She ordered, keying her own radio to call The Rig. "Miss Militia to Console, immediate air transport to my GPS for a Priority One medivac to Brockton General, and get me Director Piggot immediately."

"Militia, what's the situation?" the Director's voice was calm but brisk, no note of censure despite the hour and abruptness of the call. Doubtless she had already been roused when the situation had started evolving between the ABB and E88, even if it was technically a non-parahuman affair.

"Taylor Hebert and Paige McAbee were victims. It looks like Paige got hit with some sort of tranquilizer dart and she shows signs of being restrained. Taylor has to gunshot wounds, one to the gut. She got first aid, but the injuries look critical." The Kurdish-American reported just as briskly. "I need a priority request for Panacea to airlifted to Brockton General, and we need to talk to Danny. If he decides to retaliate, this will spiral irrecoverably into chaos and bloodshed."

"Agreed. Go and talk to him personally, Hannah. He said he trusts you and welcome you to his home, that might just be enough to make him listen to you. I'll speak with Panacea myself." The Director responded, before signing off. As the sound of an approaching chopper became audible, Hana steeled herself for the coming conversation, pulled out her 'work phone' and dialed.

"Hello, Danny? This is Miss Militia. Something's happened with Taylor and Paige…"

#######################################################

Danny Hebert liked to think of himself as a calm, reasonable, and generally affable man. He kept a tight rein on his temper, and he certainly wasn't prone to laying blame at the feet of those who deserved it (which only made him more eager to make sure those who did deserve it were properly punished). Naturally, this meant he wasn't likely to shoot the proverbial messenger no matter what message they brought.

All of that being said, he was also a man who loved his daughter (his only family and the living legacy of his beloved wife) very much, and he had grown rather fond of Paige as well, finding her a bright, engaging, and altogether charming young woman. He was also a man with the lives of many to safeguard, and so when he heard that a turf firefight had started near the very cinema the two girls were at, he instructed several patrol groups to get 'on deck', and those on patrol were told to be extra vigilant. When his phone rang again and Miss Militia had told him that his daughter had been shot twice and someone had apparently tried to kidnap Paige, he had agreed to take no punitive actions beyond going to the hospital with the hero instead of travelling their on his own. He had then hung up and called out the full might of the DWA to secure their 'territory' while a half dozen of his best went straight to the hospital to watch over the girls until he arrived.

Had he been a rash man, he would be attacking the ABB and E88 even now, and to be perfectly honest if Taylor had died he would have, but with her stable and Panacea on the way that was not going to come to pass. Instead, he would ensure his people were safe in case this had been a deliberate attack, an opening salvo leading to a broader conflict. Something that would be remarkably stupid of the gangs if it proved to be the case.

Neither Kaiser nor Lung were particularly stupid, their avoidance of the Docks and anything that might bring down a kill order proved as much, but their wisdom could have been compromised by the chance to get at Paige while she was vulnerable. She would, after all, be a potent asset to whoever could gain command of her power. Still, despite the apparent circumstances surrounding the event, it seemed unlikely that they were involved directly (one must account for lower-ranked members acting of their own initiation to seek promotions!) in whatever had happened. Lung had never been one to go on the offensive, and thank God for it, because otherwise The Bay would be rubble or entirely under his control. No, the Dragon of Kyushu preferred to keep to his casinos and brothels unless provoked by E88 or Merchant encroachment, something that they did far too often despite knowing exactly what would happen to them when they did.

Kaiser, likewise, had worked hard to cultivate the image of being a more reasonable individual than his father and sister had been (not the most difficult task, really), which is how he had managed to avoid too much governmental wrath thus far. Well, that and the fact that his capes always showed up to Endbringer fights, without exception. Rather than force, he preferred to seduce people into his beliefs with honeyed words and twisted logic, an approach made easier by Lung's own violence and lack of care for who or what suffered as he rampaged. How easy it could be to appear reasonable and morally superior to a man who burns entire city blocks, who can go toe to toe with Endbringers yet refuses to do so. How easy it was to make them forget that the Empire were one of the most reviled and condemned groups in history just long enough for them to be too deep to back out. No, the Empire wasn't responsible for a deliberate attack any more than the ABB were.

He briefly considered the Merchants before dismissing the idea with a snort. Taylor and Paige had been too far from their territory for it to have been a chance attack, and he doubted they had the intelligence or attention span to plan an infiltration-type mission. Even if they were smart and brave enough to think of kidnapping Paige while the ABB and E88 were distracted with slaughtering one another, they certainly didn't have the wherewithal to tranquilize Paige rather than simply clubbing her over the head or something similar. Even if they could be sober long enough to plot, an improbability approaching impossibilities, all those drugs had probably reduced their average intellectual capacity to that of a not-so-bright rock.

These conclusions, however, posed a rather large problem: with the 'major players' of the Bay not being responsible, who then was? With an utter void where the future of protecting his people was concerned, he found himself distinctly unhappy. How could he defend, or strike back, against a threat he could neither identify nor see coming? Furthermore, if someone in the city was capable of making such a gambit and very nearly succeeding, how was it that such an individual was not already known? He had no discernible path before him, and that was A Bad Thing.

He sighed to himself tiredly. There was little purpose in panicking over it when he could ask Miss Militia instead, for if anyone could deduce the solution to this quandary it would be them, and they were as invested as he was in making sure that the DWA remained content(ish) and passively guarding their own borders and people. That, and Militia seemed to be a legitimately good person, a true hero, which was a real rarity these days. Especially in Brockton Bay.

It didn't take the hero very long to arrive, much to his relief, for he not only wanted to reach Taylor quickly, but avoid stewing on threats and bogeymen for too long. That way laid madness and crippling anxiety, neither of which would help the current situation in the least. He mentally resolved to purchase himself and Taylor cell-phones immediately. His distaste for their part in Annette's death aside, Taylor being unable to reach him or having to sit next to a landline in order to communicate with his people were major drawbacks. Unacceptable drawbacks, and ones that would be rectified.

"Danny, it is good to see you again, though obviously I wish it were under far better circumstances then these." She told him as he slid into the PRT SUV she had brought as their transportation. "Paige should be awake by the time we get there, and Panacea is on her way in to work on Taylor. Whoever performed first aid on them did a very good job, and they kept Taylor alive long enough for us to arrive."

"What, it wasn't any of your people? Who else could have done it, then?" Danny frowned, confused by her words. He would have thought that law enforcement would resolve the issue and stabilize people for transport to the hospital. "Some new independent cape, then?

"No, not exactly…" she said slowly, one hand coming off the wheel to run through her hair, a time-buying gesture that never-the-less drew Danny's attention to the aforementioned hair and her long, stereotypically pianist's hands. Catching himself staring slightly, he blushed and looked back at the road. "Well, it's all over PHO, so I guess I can fill you in a bit without breaking OpSec. The first aid was performed by the same group that wiped the gang groups out. They call themselves 'XCOM' and all we really know about them is that they are at least special forces-tier operators, they carry very heavy gear, and they have some very groundbreaking medical tech."

"While I can't quite bring myself to be too distressed, given the circumstances in which they got involved, the fact that even your people have no idea who they are is somewhat worrisome. Speaking of unknowns, I need you to check my logic on something." The Dockmaster mused, before running through his entire chain of thought as thoroughly and detailed as he could manage, surprising the masked hero with his insight and impressive deduction. Despite the PRT assessment of him, and her own for that matter, she found that she had underestimated him, rather shamefully in fact.

"That's…very well done, Mr. Hebert. I don't see any flaws in your logic, and I'm embarrassed to say that not only did we assume it was either the ABB or E88, but that you would be…" her voice trailed off with a slight, unhappy grimace, as she tried to finish the sentence in the least offensive way possible.

"You figured I would be storming off with every man and woman under my banner to start a city-wide crusade against the gangs." He supplied dryly, getting a small, almost tentative nod in response. Flashing a reassuring smile, he shrugged slightly. "To be honest, the idea crossed my mind, but Taylor would be furious if I went after the wrong people and made the city worse for the innocents. Obviously, I'm not fond of that particular idea either."

"I'm very glad to hear it, and ashamed that we ever thought otherwise. You and yours have never proved to be foolish or irrational. You have our, my, apologies for thinking less of you." Militia dipped her head in apology, looking and sounding honestly contrite, and he waved a hand in a throwing away motion.

"Don't worry about it, me and mine don't interact with the rest of you a lot, so I'm not surprised that you all prefer to aim low and be pleasantly surprised when we exceed expectations. Besides," his voice grew colder and harder as he continued, and she shivered slightly. "If I knew who my enemy actually was, I wouldn't be bucking your predictions quite so prominently. If Taylor had died, we would be killing any banger we came across right now."

Hannah knew she should protest, even if only with a token argument, as a respectable and responsible member of law enforcement, but she couldn't. He had lost a huge pillar of his life when his wife had died, and losing his daughter would probably have broken him…and made him incredibly dangerous. A man who had lost everything he loved, everything that gave him purpose in life could, and often did, wreak untold destruction in vengeance. History was rife with examples.

Honestly, most people wouldn't have shown as much restraint as he had if in possession of the same power and resources he could bring to bear, with the same stresses and pressures he was shouldering. They probably would have already launched a campaign, most likely, and in this case it was only temporarily halted, or so his words seemed to imply. Once he found out who had attacked, however, he was far less likely to remain passive.

"Well, the PRT will certainly be keeping an eye out now. If you're right about there being another gang or villain at play in the city able to pull of what they very nearly did, then they're certainly a matter of concern for us." She reassured him, though she technically couldn't make such assurances. As she was neither the ranking Protectorate cape nor Director of the local PRT branch, she knew that Piggot and Armsmaster would agree with her, even if only to keep the DWA in their nice little box for as long as possible.

"I'm glad to hear it. This city has enough problems without people like this sort seems to be running around wreaking havoc and kidnapping girls." He smiled warmly, making her stomach flutter a little. "Maybe they'll decide Brockton Bay is too much of a hassle to stick around in and will beat feet instead of causing even more problems than they already have."

Hana couldn't help but snort, and a few seconds later both were laughing freely in amusement at the outlandish and frankly absurd idea. Brockton Bay was too fertile a ground for criminals for an aspiring supervillain to abandon it so easily.

#############################################

On the other side of the city, the subject of their laughter (quite out of character) smashed an expensive blown-glass decoration in his office. He couldn't understand what had happened! He had spent countless timelines ensuring his plan was fine-tuned to perfection, but not only had the mission failed utterly, but all of his operatives present had died! Paying their death benefits would hardly put a dent in his finances, sure, and he had no choice but to pay it (getting new recruits would be a great deal more difficult if he broke contract) but it was the principle of the matter! He wasn't supposed to lose, that's why he had shelled out a massive amount of money for a Cauldron power of the Precog-Thinker type.

Regardless, he had a reputation to maintain, one carefully forged to present a reasonable and wealthy man that paid well and didn't spend the lives of his mercenaries frivolously, or at all really. No are needed to know that the only reason he kept casualties low was because of his power, not because he actually cared about their lives. Yet, here he was, having lost nearly twenty men in a failed effort to kidnap or murder a pair of teenaged girls.

Keeping the truth of their mission secret was feasible, but hiding their deaths was utterly impossible. Better to breach the matter on his own terms to control the narrative, rather than trying to counter-spin rumors. From his time as a soldier, he knew that trying to totally suppress something was as stupid as it was futile. Any attempts would only fan the proverbial flames higher than ever, and this whole situation would rapidly spiral out of control.

Turning on his broadcast system, he took a breath and began his canned 'We Lost Friends and Comrades Today' speech. He droned on and on about how their families would be well taken care of, that they would be remembered, that they were men and women of honor despite their profession, the whole spiel. It was all very impressive sounding, of course, but ultimately it was (like essentially everything else he did in his life now) a ploy to gain more power.

The formalities dispense with he turned to contemplation of his failed plot. His anger having dissipated, logic could now rule the path forward. He couldn't risk moving against his targets or their supporters again overtly, not anytime soon anyway. The hospital was too well protected to finish the job there, and The Docks had lit up like a hornet's nest. Patience and careful observation would be the keys to success, here. Better to watch and wait than to act rashly and risk losing more people, especially if they were taken alive and talked. Mercenaries might have their own, somewhat convoluted code of honor, but in the end their loyalty to him was via a paycheck, not anything deeper and more binding.

One thing that he would definitely need to start the ball rolling on was figuring out who the hell these 'XCOM' people were, how they had discovered his plans, and how much more they knew about his plans. Hell, he needed to figure out if they had even known about his plans or if his people had simply been caught in their response to the ABB and E88. Regardless of cause, they were a serious threat, as by all accounts they had killed not just his own men, but all of the gang members present, to the very last man. All of it done without suffering any apparent casualties, judging by the video feed posted on PHO by 'Sothoth', anyway. That made them more deadly than any 'normal' human extra-governmental forces he could think of, and he doubted they were sanctioned government forces. If so, their introduction would have been dealing with the Nine or something similarly significant, as opposed to here in Brockton Bay.

There was also the issue of how to handle a riled-up DWA, one that didn't seem inclined to react the way he had predicted, likely due to the Hebert girl not actually dying. Not for the first time, he cursed his inability to get his fingers into any pies related to the city's most passive power, and the utter void in his information network therein. If nothing else, he begrudgingly respected the loyalty and influence Danny Hebert wielded, even if he was contemptuous of how passive and 'hand-off' the man was with said loyalty and influence. Still, he needed more information, and if conventional methods failed he would have to resort to more…enhanced agents. Fortunately, he had a pet Thinker that could gain incredible insight just by looking at someone. So long as he was careful with his questions and instructions when he sent her to poke around the hospital, Tattletale would give him precious intel without ever grasping what he had done, or for the opportunity for freedom he had dangled before her. There was really something delicious in that knowledge, that cruel assurance of successful manipulation and control of the unwilling and unwitting.

It didn't take him long to plan out how to verbally guide her into assuming he was worried about some new PRT super commandoes. It even had the novelty of being at least partially true, with the reasoning that she might hear them spoken of as an assurance to Hebert that they would make sure his daughter was safe. The PRT was desperate to keep the DWA irrelevant to the power struggles of the city, so making such a remark out loud over his daughter's unconscious form was not so unlikely. Sending her on her way with a pleased smirk, for though today had been a setback, it was a minor one. A recoverable one, if he kept his eyes open and his power working.

Unfortunately for Coil, he had (in the rare stress of such a significant failure) forgotten that there were agents to whom he had given standing orders, orders that dictated that they be in their target's general vicinity whenever she wasn't at the docks. Ergo, Agent Epsilon would be on site, just as he had been at the mall, playing the sick man awaiting doctor's care in the ER. Just as he had been playing the tired shopper in the mall. It was a small detail, unnoticeable to most people, but Lisa Wilbourn was anyone but 'most people'.

#######################################################

Lisa Wilbourn, born Sarah Livsey, walked through the doors to the ER with roaming eyes. At least six of the people here were high-school students with alcohol poisoning. Some pre-new-school year partying taken to far, she would wager. Idiots. That would get them killed sooner rather than later. Interestingly, one of Coil's agents was here too, looking as unobtrusive as possible. It was, in fact, the same agent that he had spotted in the mall cafeteria a couple of weeks ago, though she had ignored him in favor of those he was observing at the time.

What, then, was his purpose here? It was unlikely that their mutual leash-holder had sent them both for the same purpose, the older male would be entirely superfluous with a Thinker such as herself present. Which meant he was here for something else, some other mission, but she needed more information to come to a conclusion.

Said information didn't take long to arrive, fortunately enough, because sitting around the ER wasn't her idea of a fun afternoon. She was trying to entertain herself by figuring out how to expose one of the doctors for two-timing with two other staff members before the doors hissed open, a hush falling across the room. She turned to see the cause, and her eyes widened significantly as her power kick up a notch.

**_Head of the DWA with guards and Miss Militia flanking him, acting subordinate to him. Emotional masks, eyes are cold, jaws tight, strides measured, shoulders stiff and broad. Vaguely militaristic, intended to awe and intimidate through show of force. Coil's agent was watching Canary and her unnamed friend. Canary moved to The Docks. Canary's friend was Taylor Hebert. They were hospitalized._ **

She reigned herself in before she could give herself away by either cursing violently or cheering loudly. She couldn't believe Coil had been stupid enough to have gone after the pair. He must have tried to kidnap Canary and hospitalized Taylor in the process. The PRT was not involved to try and calm the DWA _and keep them out of a conflict, as well as investigating who might have perpetrated the attack._

 _'Oh my, and our dear 2IC of Protectorate forces in quite enamored, isn't she, and wallowing in guilt for it. Not just a crush, either, she has taken a deeper measure beyond simple looks.'_ She gleefully mused to herself with a grin, feeling rather like she was watching the second or third episode of a romantic drama. It would be interesting to see if that infatuation blossomed into anything, and how that would affect the hero's loyalty to the PRT.

With everyone distracted by the dramatic entrance, she was able to slip into the hospital proper, snagging a free doctor's coat as she moved. She knew exactly how she would need to act to avoid notice, and she trailed the Dockmaster's party further inside as the moved past her.

"Panacea should be here momentarily. Since Taylor is unconscious, you'll need to authorize her to heal the gunshot wounds and other injuries. Paige woke up about fifteen minutes ago." A doctor informed Mr. Hebert as the group approached a door guarded by two more DWA members. The hospital staff was clearly unhappy with their presence, but it was equally clear that they didn't have the courage to try and make them move. She didn't really blame them, if she was going to be honest.

"No sign of trouble, Boss, but Little Boss' friend is spitting fire in there. She's kind of scary when she's furious." One of the door guards reported as the group arrived, nodding respectfully to Miss Militia. "Emma called ahead, she's on her way. She said that she wants to help find whoever is responsible, do whatever we need to help Taylor. She's also bringing a mutual friend, some kid named Sophia."

Miss Militia couldn't help but narrow her eyes slightly at that, recalling with a faint blush how Shadow Stalker had walked into a meeting between herself, Armsmaster and Director Piggot and had laid out the incredibly simple and obvious logic chain Hebert had used to unmask her when Emma had introduced them to one another. Doubtless the often acerbic Ward had enjoyed their reactions when they realized they had missed such an obvious and critical vulnerability such as that. Even if the case hadn't been well publicized, everyone knew about it. With cape laws still very much in their infancy (democracy might be the best known form of government thus far in human history, but efficient and swift it was not!), more than the PRT and Sophia's mother had been comfortable with was known to the public at large. And even if that hadn't been the case, the gangs would have found out the basics eventually no matter how hard the authorities tried. Scuttlebutt was the one, true, unimpedable constant in the universe. No matter how many NDAs were signed, how many black markers were applied to reports, it inevitably became known. That was one reason only she, Armsmaster, the Director, and Chief Director Costa-Brown knew the true identities of the ENE Wards, and why they were not written down.

Law and politics aside, they had been all too eager to prove that they cared for the safety and security of the dark-skinned Ward's family. A flaw had been discovered and pointed out, a flaw that would soon be disseminated up the proverbial chain of rank to ensure other, potentially at-risk Wards were safe. Though Sophia's circumstances with the Barnes' family were fairly unique (even if vigilantes becoming Wards was most definitely not!), it was best to devise protocols all the same. If there was one thing a military branch was good at, it was devising protocols for all situations, even outlandish ones.

"Alright, let me know when they arrive." Danny instructed as he opened the door and stepped through, his group save Miss Militia and the disguised Tattletale remaining outside and out to the way.

"Mr. Hebert!" Paige, who had been pacing in worry and agitation (directly against Doctor's orders, let it be said) by Taylor's bedside threw herself into the older man's arms, crying freely. "I'm so, so sorry! It's all my fault! If it wasn't for me, Taylor wouldn't be hurt!"

"Stop that right now, Paige! This wasn't your fault, it was ours, mine. I should have had people keeping an eye on you guys outside of The Docks. We got complacent, we got comfortable, and you two suffered for it." Danny hugged the crying teen warmly and tightly, rubbing her back reassuringly. "Taylor will be fine, and we'll be more careful so that this can't happen again."

"He's right. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing when they came after you two. How to avoid the PRT, how to kidnap and extract a parahuman, how to avoid cameras…they weren't no-name thugs, whoever they worked for was someone we didn't know about. But we know now. You girls will be fine." Miss Militia agreed firmly, reaching out to squeeze Paige's shoulder, and further conversation halted as Amy Dallon, costumed as Panacea of New Wave, entered the room.

##########################################################

Amy hated her life fairly often, sadly enough. She hated how incredibly unique and unparalleled her power was, she hated how much she loved her sister, and she hated how much her adoptive mother struggled to love her.

Oh, she knew that Carol Dallon loved her, maybe even loved her as much as Carol loved Vicky, but that didn't change the fact that Carol was reminded of whatever it was about Amy's past that caused her so much pain and inner conflict. Brandish worked hard to overcome it, to show affection to her second child, and she often succeeded. She had been there for every play, every dance recital, every ballet lesson that she could (hero duties could arrive at most inopportune moments, after all), Amy's projects and childhood drawings were right beside Vicky's. Unfortunately, she also had a hint of pain forever lingering in her eyes when she looked at Amy. Neither of her parents, nor her aunt and uncle, would tell her why no matter how often she asked.

So the healer threw herself into her work, spending literally countless hours at the hospital or various shelters around the city, to prove that Carol had done the right thing to take her in, that she was a hero and not a burden. To prove that she was strong enough, good enough, to not abuse her power to twist the minds of those around her to her whims. To become one of the worst villains imaginable. It's why she told no one about her power over brains, to keep the temptation to abuse it at bay by preventing any circumstances from arising in the first place.

That, and she had a genuine desire to help people. She might loath how much people obsessed over her, how she could never be 'just Amy', how she was dragged hither and yon for the most inane nonsense (she wasn't needed for a broken arm, dammit!), but seeing the faces of parents when she cured their four year old child of cancer would never, ever get old. How could it, when she had the knowledge that that child would actually have a life now as opposed to dying before hitting puberty?

All that being said, though, this case was rather different. While she often treated gunshot and stab wounds (even with modern, tinker-tech medical technology they could still prove fatal if not dealt with promptly), she was not often contacted personally by the Director of Protectorate ENE, never mind in an effort to avoid the outbreak of a five-way war within the city limits. She certainly wasn't used to a chopper being sent directly to her house in order to hasten her arrival to the hospital. The seriousness of the situation was well and truly impressed upon her now.

"Mom, what's so special about this case? I don't get it." Vicky, her beloved sister and secret crush, asked their mother. She, obviously, did not grasp how serious the situation was, causing a flare of amused irritation to blossom in the other two Dallon women. "I mean, they've called Amy in for emergencies before, obviously, but nothing like this, with the chopper and everything."

Carol sighed, wishing (not for the first nor the last time) that her flesh-and-blood daughter was a little less air-headed about certain subjects. Anything that didn't immediately grab the blonde's attention went in one ear and out the other without gaining the slightest traction.

"You know how there is never any activity in The Docks? No gang members, no capes, nothing that has to do with the cold war in the rest of the city?" she asked calmly, none of her irritation leaking into her voice. Past experience told her that an angry, annoyed, or disappointed tone of voice would make Vicky defensive and less likely to listen to her.

"Yeah, I figured it was because there was nothing worth fighting over. I mean, isn't the place a total wreck, without anything of real value left?" Vicky shrugged, oblivious to the fact that she had just insulted the homes and livelihoods of a significant portion of the city, and Carol sighed internally while Amy half-rolled her eyes.

"The Docks themselves are damaged and blocked by the Ship's Graveyard, yes, but the real reason nothing happens there is because of the Dockworker's Association. When the Docks shut down, the E88 and ABB figured that they could move in and repurpose the area for their own ends, but the DWA wasn't amused. They smashed the thugs the gangs sent in and threw them out with a warning: interfere with the Docks at your own peril. So long as the ABB and E88 stayed away from their people, the DWA would leave them be and not get involved in disputes outside of The Docks."

“Why didn't they use their capes to take The Docks, then, if the regular thugs couldn't do it? And what has that got to do with tonight?" Vicky pressed, looking baffled, and Amy sighed aloud.

"The Empire tries to put on a front of being reasonable people, so using his capes on regular humans, ones that aren't even from a rival gang, would tank Kaiser's narrative. Lung just doesn't care enough to bother getting involved himself." She answered her adoptive sister a little briskly. "And it matters because the 'first daughter' of the DWA got caught in the middle of an E88 and ABB firefight. If she dies, her father and his people willgo to war. You think Brockton Bay is dangerous right now, just wait for the relative peace to be broken into a no-holds barred free-for-all. We'll look like a third world country."

"Oh." Vicky blinked, before her brow furrowed as she contemplated this information. She wasn't stupid, not even close to it, but her carefree lifestyle meant that she had never needed (nor cared to try) to understand the complexities of things like this. "So this is a really big deal then, something they really need you for as opposed to some asshole guilting you because they're lazy."

Amy snorted in amusement while their mother frowned at Vicky. The blood-born Dallon had always been vocal about her contempt for people who 'wasted her sister's time with stupid shit' like broken arms or the flu. Cure cancer, cure someone's addiction to drugs or make the blind see again? Sure, those were worth Amy's time, and she couldn't be more proud of Amy for helping those people. Break your arm doing a stupid dare to show off? You'll heal up just fine, stupid, maybe you won't do it again now.

The ultimate irony, of course, was how frequently Amy had to patch people up because Vicky did something stupid. It really said something that the biokinetic wanted to tweak the blonde girl into having better restraint than she did to make Vicky fall in love with her.

A few minutes of silent flying later, they were being escorted to the victims' hospital room by an orderly, who was filling Amy in on Taylor Hebert's injuries and current status. He was just finishing up when they arrived, and the Dallons hitched their step slightly as they saw the men and women waiting outside the door.

"The Dallons are here, boss." One said, cracking the door and sticking her head in. A man's voice responded and she pulled back out, opening the door fully. "The Boss will see you now. We'll be right here, just in case."

Vicky bristled a bit at what she perceived to be a subtle threat, but Carol tugged her inside the room before she could pick a fight. Within, they found the expected doctors, a young nurse, an anxious blond around her the Dallon girls' age, and a tall, powerfully built man standing around the bed of the still-unconscious Taylor.

"I'm glad you're all here, and I'm glad that you've agreed to help. I'm Danny Hebert, this is my daughter Taylor and her friend Paige." The man introduced himself promptly and politely, gesturing first to the unconscious ravenette and then the anxious blonde.

"You can help her, will help her…won't you?" Paige's voice had an odd quality to it, an almost ethereal echo, but a glance from Danny had her clamping her mouth shut again.

"I can and I will, with your permission, Mr. Hebert." Amy responded, getting a sharp nod and inviting gesture, though she had the impression he wanted to roll his eyes or raise an eyebrow at her inquiry. She could understand that, she supposed, it wasn't like he would say anything else.

She stepped up to the bed, reached out to lay a hand on Taylor's arm...and froze the minute she made contact. A jolt of electricity danced down her spine, and the world faded away. The hospital room was replaced by a large metal deck, painted with white and yellow symbols of obviously military format. Looking around, she saw that it seemed to be a large landing pad on some sort of enormous aircraft, like the helicarrier from that Earth Aleph movie about capes. A bright, cobalt blue glow beside her had her flinching in surprise and hastily moving away with wide eyes, eyes that widened further as the glow coalesced into Paige.

"What the fuck?" Paige yelped, looking around in shock at their new surroundings, looking as lost as Canary felt. She, obviously, was not behind…whatever this was, then. Some sort of Master-class illusion trick then, done from a distance? But why would someone be using a long-ranged illusion attacked on them here and now, what purpose could it serve? Amy didn't like to gloat or feel arrogant, but she was universally considered off-limits. Harm the world's most powerful healer, who reduced Endbringer fight casualties by 75%? That way laid a rapid and unavoidable demise. Hell, even if someone was after them, to do so with Miss Militia, Brandish, and Glory Girl for capes and a dozen DWA members for normals in the middle of a hospital was just as insane.

"You're not supposed to be here." A double-layered male voice, only a whisper echoed around them, blue lightning crawling across the deck, the sky, even themselves. There was a pushing sensation and their surroundings began to fade away again. "Out you go, little ones. This isn't the place for you right now. Not yet…"

Paige and Amy blinked at the hospital room around them before frowning in unison, disappointed with themselves. They couldn't believe that they had randomly zoned out, even for the briefest heartbeat, at such an important moment! Here they were, standing around like idiots with Taylor dying right in front of them! Disgraceful!

Utterly unaware that they were now missing a minute or so of memory, courtesy of some psionic manipulation from a certain extra-dimensional being, they carried on with the matter at hand, refocusing on Taylor. It took only a handful of minutes for Amy to restore the hospitalized teen to perfect health.

"I'll check back in tomorrow, once she is awake. Make sure she is getting plenty of fluids and nutrition until then, and in about 18 hours she is going to sit up and need a lot of food. I had to use a fair bit of biomass to repair the damage, her body is going to need to replenish itself badly." She instructed, stepping away and addressing the on-duty doctor as well as the other two adults in the room. "She should be fine now, so tomorrow will really only be a formality, but I want to speak with her and make sure that she's alright before she goes home. Understood?"

"You're the boss, doc." Danny smiled gratefully, before growing more solemn, eyes damp with emotion and voice laden with honesty. "Thank you again, so much, for this. I appreciate it more than words could ever express. You ever need anything, you let the DWA know. We, I, own you more than could ever be repaid."

Observing from her place in the back of the room, Lisa couldn't help but smile as Amy beamed at the praise. Despite the weight she could see hanging on the healer, a weight that worryingly reminded her of her brother back…before, she was still forging ahead, still helping those who needed it. Admirable. Maybe she could help the villain's daughter (and hadn't that been a shock to deduce!) after she saved her own neck.

She was rapidly devising a plan to do just that, a plan to free herself (and hopefully her teammates, even if they were utterly oblivious) from Coil's grasp. A plan that would involve not dying horribly or getting enslaved and lock in a basement for the rest of her no doubt torturous existence. The DWA would of course be willing to help with an appreciably small amount of manipulation or prevarication on her part. The problem would be beating Coil's power, a problem compounded by the fact that she didn't actually know what his power was.

No matter, she could start the ball rolling by informing the man holding her leash that the DWA would appreciate some support from a 'concerned citizen and potential benefactor' in the form of information, contracts, or supplies. At which point, all she would need to do is reveal the truth to the Heberts. Ingratiating them to her and gaining the support she needed to be free. The guilt at manipulating genuinely good people into a dangerous situation was firmly pushed aside, at least for the moment. It wasn't as if they would be in true danger with her expertise guiding them, and she would be repaying them in spades for their aid afterwards. Hell, she would even be handing over not only the man who attacked them, but the resources they needed to start turning this city around!

Slipping from the room, she smiled at the DWA members outside and strode away with a purposeful step, appearing to all the world a medical practitioner going about her duties. There was word-play to be woven, deceptions to be made, and several fates to be changed.

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**So, I originally had this long sequence where all the parahumans in the hospital room get pulled into Taylor's Mindscape, the XCOM base in particular, but decided that this would out her rather quickly. Still, I wanted her psionics to interpret Amy's power on her body as a potential attack and take steps to shut her down (pulling her into the mindscape, where she is helpless), so I had Asaru interfere to send them out and make them forget.**

**We will be seeing PRT reactions to the massacre and XCOM debut next chapter, as well as seeing everything that has happened inside Taylor's mind since she passed out during the attack. In other words, most of the next chapter will take place in parallel time wise to this one, I just split them up to keep the length reasonable and the thread of the story manageable.**


	6. Hello, Commander

'Guest': I wish you had been signed in so I could reply! First, thanks for all the edits, will work on implementing those. For Lisa, I will say that I am aware, I have plans for her. Psionics are, after all, a power of the mind. The mind, which is connected to the power. And the solution will help more people than just Lisa.

Other 'Guest': Quad sized will be more from mods, probably capping at around 8 or 10. However, that's not to say XCOM will be capping out there. That's all I'll say for the moment.

Aslion: 1. Welcome to the party, glad you're enjoying it!

  1. Basically grabbing Tinkertech, but also innovation on Taylor's part. Thinking of things from science-fiction and how to make them will feature.
  2. Yes ;)
  3. Yeah, probably!



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Because of the War

Chapter 5

Hello, Commander

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Taylor wasn't prone to hallucinations or hearing voices, even after suffering a major trauma. Still, dreams were to be somewhat expected after getting gunned down in an alleyway, and this definitely had to be a dream. Somehow she didn't think that Heaven looked like the infirmary of a military base, and she liked to think that Hell wasn't her ultimate fate.

And the fact that it was a military infirmary was mind-numbingly obvious, because her surroundings had none of the 'homey touches' that civilian hospitals adopted in an effort to make stays less stressful on patients. That, the huge emblem on the wall (a giant X superimposed on the globe), and the how similar it was in appearance to all those Earth Aleph movies.

"Oh, Commander! You're awake!" a cheerful voice chirped nearby, and she turned her head to see someone there, a nurse in point of fact. "We weren't sure when you would be coming around."

Taylor's response to this kind and happy greeting was to pinch herself. Hard. When she didn't wake up, she sighed in irritation. It seemed that waking up wouldn't be quite as easy as she had hoped, though she wasn't sure that the whole 'pinching yourself' thing was actually legitimate. Maybe it was one of those things that everyone thought was true but actually had no basis in reality. Or maybe she really was dead and this was just a really, really bizarre part of the afterlife. Either way, just lying here was probably pretty pointless.

"Easy, Commander. Those gunshots took a large toll on your body, even with first aid and then healing by that Panacea girl." The nurse warned her, moving quickly to her side as she cast off her blanket and tried to sit up. "Officer Bradford will have my head on a pole if you hurt yourself again, mindscape or not."

"How can I hurt myself in a dream? And what kind of dream is this, anyway? If I was going to have delusions of grandeur, I could have at least gotten powers and bigger boobs." Taylor grumbled in response, pushing herself to her feet with a scowl of irritation.

"You're not dreaming, Commander. Not really. A lot has happened since you got shot, about two hours ago. Come on, your escort to the bridge is waiting for you. All your questions can be best answered there." The nurse told her gently, a somewhat pitying look on her face.

"Wait, if I'm not dreaming, then where am I?" she asked, even as a young Asian woman walked into the room, clad in an orange t-shirt and grease-and-oil stained overalls, clearly her escort judging by the timing.

"We're in your head, Commander. Or a part of it, anyway. An-yi Shen, Doctor and Chief Engineer of XCOM forces. Please call me Lily." The newcomer greeted her just as cheerfully as the nurse had, gesturing broadly for Taylor to join her. "Once we get to the bridge, things should get clearer. For the moment, just know that you couldn't possibly be any safer than you are here and now.

Curious despite instinctive caution of the unknown, and very much wanting to get some answers from anyone, Taylor decided to follow the college-ish aged doctor from the room, out into a bustling hallway. She immediately took note of the two armed guards (also both female) posted outside the door, though whether or not there to keep her in or others out she couldn't be sure. Probably both, if she were willing to make a bet on the probability.

As she followed Lily through the base's long metal corridors, her eyes were constantly roaming her new environs, taking in not only the base itself but the endlessly moving humans around them. Of course, while most would have trouble navigating an unknown space full of people, she and Lily did not. Mostly because everyone moved out of their way and saluted as they passed, and Taylor resisted the urge to grimace in discomfort. She could feel their eyes and whispers following her even after she had passed them, and she wasn't terribly fond of neither the feeling nor the militaristic displays of respect that preceded them. She wasn't used to getting a lot of attention or respect, really, even from the DWA. Even with all the days spent at the docks since she was old enough to walk (and especially after her mom died and her dad couldn't leave her at home), she was still the 'Little Boss' to them, the kid they had baby-sat and diaper-changed more than once in their lives. Oh they respected her, sure, but they didn't display it like they did for her father.

Finally, after what felt like an incredibly awkward eternity, they arrived at what could only be the bridge, with a small swarm of uniformed crew laboring over displays, readouts, control panels, gadgets, and God-only-knew what else.

"Commander on the bridge!" a male voice bellowed, and the entire room snapped to attention, hands rising to salute her crisply. Her face glowing with embarrassment, she gave them a hesitant dip of the head in acknowledgement. After a moment, the voice spoke again. "At ease, return to your duties!"

The speaker, a tall man around her father's age wearing cargo pants and a long-sleeved shirt, emerged from the controlled chaos and approached with a small yet welcoming smile on his face. He was obviously experienced, judging by the way that he walked, the scars on his face and hands, and the fact that he had a pistol under each arm in shoulder holsters. It was his eyes, though, that spoke the most, for they were the eyes of one who had seen things she probably couldn't imagine, regardless of the hell-hole she lived in. He had seen true war.

"Good to meet you in person, Commander. I'm Central Officer John Bradford, Second in Command of XCOM forces worldwide and your operational chief. I handle all the day to day affairs and direct missions from here according to your directions. Call me Central, everyone does." He greeted her before guiding her to the large holotank that dominated the center of the room, as well as the people around it, one of whom she saw was Lily. "Alright everyone, names and duties."

"Lily Shen. I run Engineering. Weapons, armor, maintenance…anything to do with building something and keeping it running falls under my direction. "Lily spoke first, despite having already introduced herself earlier. "I can't wait to get my hands on some of this 'tinker-tech' stuff and reverse engineer it for our people."

"Dr. Richard Tygan, Chief Scientific Officer and Head of Research Division. I too look forward to delving into the technology of this world, and into the mysteries of the parahuman phenomena." A tall, lab coat-garbed African-American man spoke next, and as he nodded in respect to her, Taylor couldn't help but notice how shiny his bald head was. Which was kind of disrespectful, she knew, but she couldn't help the idle thought. He even looked like a stereotypical scientist too, with his square glasses and slightly superior look.

"Ziva David. I lead combat operations in the field, like the one to rescue you and Paige. I'm just glad that we made it in time to save you two." A frighteningly familiar young woman told her, and she blinked in bafflement at the existence of an Earth Aleph TV character standing before her in black body armor with a hood thrown back.

"We all know that you've got a lot of questions, Commander." Bradford took over, sounding somewhat displeased as he continued. "Unfortunately, there isn't much we can do to answer most of them."

"Can't, or won't?" Taylor asked, voice gaining a distinctly frosty edge to it, and she was utterly oblivious to the cobalt blue energy that crawled between her fingers for a moment, though those around her took note immediately.

"Can't. We're your power, Commander, as insane as it sounds. Most of us were created the instant you Triggered in that Alleyway, that's why 99.9% of XCOM is female right now. You subconsciously wanted to protect your privacy and dignity, so you created barely any men. "Ziva explained, before pointing at the other three." The thing is, they weren't created by your power. They were real, living and breathing people from another Earth before your Trigger."

"That's…I mean, we know about other Earths, but…" Taylor couldn't even begin to grasp it on a really personnel level, never mind the fact that they were somehow part of her power. "How is this even remotely possible? Pulling people from another world, making people exist who didn't before?"

 _"I believe that I can answer that."_ a male voice echoed, a blue flash temporarily blinding everyone. When it faded, a floating red-robed figure floated above the table. There was a moment of shocked silence, and then…

"ETHEREAL!" Bradford roared, drawing his pistols in a blur of motion, and the entire room dissolved into chaos.

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Asaru couldn't help but sigh tiredly to himself as Taylor was hauled protectively into the crowd of gun-bristling humans. He understood that he hadn't been present on the permutation of Earth that the three 'real' XCOM officers were from, but it was still foolish and pointless to threaten him. Not only did they stand no chance against him, but they were inside of a mindscape.

_"Peace, Warriors of Humanity, Soldiers of XCOM. I have not come to attack you, but to aid you. It is I, Asaru, who have brought you to this world. It is I who shaped young Taylor's power to give birth to you. It is I who do this because if I did not, all of Humanity is doomed. Every Earth and all of their children will burn without our intervention."_

"And we should listen to the race that led the invasion of our home world…why, exactly? You plan on 'saving' Earth by conquering it? Because we'd rather fumble along by ourselves, thanks all the same." Lily snorted in dismissive contempt, and he flared his psionic presence, driving the humans to their knees with the massive pressure. As his helmet cracked open slightly to allow blazing light to spill forth, only Taylor remained on her feet, and even then only just barely.

 ** _"I COULD CRUSH YOU LIKE ANTS WITH BARELY A THOUGHT, HUMANS! I AM ASARU, ETHEREAL AND ONE OF THE MIGHTIEST PSIONICS TO EVER WALK CREATION! I EXTEND THE HAND OF SALVATION TO YOU, YET YOU SPIT AND BITE LIKE ANIMALS! BE SILENT AND LISTEN IF YOU WISH TO DESTROY THE ABOMINATIONS AND LIVE TO SPEAK OF IT!_** " he thundered, voice otherworldly and powerful, before pulling his power back into himself, his mask closing once more, voice returning to normal. _"It is time that you learned the true nature of the universe, of the true threats that wander the stars. The very threats that drove my kind to enslave so many races, and attempt to do the same with your own."_

So he told them of the Abominations, the world-shattering pan-dimensional monsters that destroyed any sentient race they came across, without hesitation or exception. How they seemed to think it a game, empowering members of the target species and pitting them against each other in some global gladiatorial match. How every attempt to communicate was ignored, every attempt to flee pursued and destroyed.

He explained that the Ethereals had fled the Abominations, their psychic might sufficient capable of escape but not of matching the monstrosities without sufficient support. So, they had begun subduing and modifying races to create a massive army, one capable of fighting the Abominations and destroying them. How Humanity had crushed the Hegemony on every Earth, proving itself more than capable of standing against the tide. They could not stand, however, against a threat that they knew nothing of, with no war-leader to guide them and rally around.

Finally, he revealed that he had twisted the parasitic 'Shard' of an Abomination in Taylor's mind, how it had been intended to Control and Administrate, so he had used it to make Taylor the supreme war-leader…and how he had gifted her incredible psionic powers of her own along with it. How all superpowers were in fact similar Shards, how even now the humans of Earth Bet were being forced to dance to the tune of The Abominations.

"God above, preserve us now." Bradford half sighed, half prayed once the Ethereal had finished and finally fallen silent. "Monsters that can destroy planets, pan-dimensional monsters at that…we have a long, hard road ahead of us. Your orders, Commander?"

"Are you insane? You think that I can do anything about this? The Triumvirate can't kill Endbringers, never mind these…things! What am I supposed to do about them, throw hand grenades and shoot them?" Taylor snarled back, fearful and incredulous. Her power could help her city, even her nation, and she couldn't be more thrilled about it. Against planet-destroying space whales, however, she rather doubted that it could accomplish anything.

"You are thinking shallowly, but perhaps it is to be expected. You are, after all, young and untrained." Asaru sighed, sounding only mildly exasperated with the shell-shocked youth. It would be unrealistic to assume otherwise, he supposed. "You think that you cannot improve the soldiers you summon? You think that you cannot devise weapons and tactics to accomplish what is necessary? You have not yet begun, and already you have given up. Did you not wish to be a hero?"

"Who said anything about giving up?" Taylor snapped, spine straightening as she glared up at him. "I'm just not stupid enough to think I can save the world single-handed!"

"No one saves the world alone, Commander. It's a team effort, a movement, a cause to rally around. All teams, all causes need someone to lead them, to inspire them. That is why Asaru brought us to you, someone who won't abuse our skills and loyalties." Bradford told her gently, in an almost paternal way. "You want to be a hero, you want to save the people you love? Start small and make a name of yourself, a name to be respected. When the time comes to warn the world, be someone that they will listen too."

"Gather friends and allies. People can trust as a powerbase. Even better if their powers mesh with yours. Passivity will make no difference in the world, and reckless aggression will bring fruitless conflict." Tygan added, and she nodded her agreement with a sigh, rubbing her forehead. "That is not to say, of course, that we adopt the same ineffectual system as the authorities seem too."

Taylor was now quite thoughtful, her mind unfolding the possibilities. There was a lot that she could do for her home with a group of elite commandoes that could literally never act against her. Still, she needed more information about her powers. About her soldiers and these…psionics. Knowledge was power even on Earth Bet, and it would be hard to make a difference if she had no idea what she could do or how to do it.

"Tell me everything." She ordered seriously, her mind made up. She had always wanted to make a difference, and now she could. It was time to take the first step on the path to victory.

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Tense meetings and briefings were nothing new for members of the federal government and its various branches, the PRT being no exception despite its relative youth to its siblings. In fact, given the individuals and situations for which the PRT was responsible, they probably had more of them than most other branches did. With people like the Slaughterhouse Nine, the Fallen, Kaiser, and Lung running around, they probably had more to do on a day to day basis than, say, the CIA. Officially anyway, as the CIA (being legally disallowed from operating inside United States territory) didn't have much to do thanks to the rather isolationist stance most countries had taken since the appearance of the Endbringers.

Every ENE hero, Wards included (even a very unhappy Shadow Stalker, who would much rather have still been at the hospital) and the ranking Strike Team officers were present. That, in and of itself, wasn't all that unusual. However, the presence of the Director for the FBI, the Chief-Director of the PRT, and Chairmen of the Joint Chiefs, and 'Agent Smith' from the CIA certainly shook the normality. As Director of the most local and involved branch of the PRT, and the ranking federal officer in the vicinity, Piggot would be taking point during the meeting. Even if XCOM was nothing but normals (a matter of some debate), Canary wasn't, and as she had been a (if not the) central victim, which put it squarely in her jurisdiction for the moment.

"For the record, the time is 0800 of September the First, 2010. I am Director Emily Piggot, Parahuman Response Teams East-North-East branch, and the subject matter of this briefing is the conflict of 13 hours ago between members of the gangs Empire Eighty-Eight and Azn Bad Boyz, hereafter referred to as E88 and ABB."

"For reasons unknown, 50 members of each gang began moving from their nominal territories, apparently intent on large scale conflict with their enemy. For posterity, I'll note that both Lung and Kaiser, heads of the ABB and E88 respectively, have officially denounced the conflict as an unauthorized action. Regardless of whether those declarations are in anyway truthful or not, the two groups encountered one another approximately two blocks north of Brockton Cinemas. It is at this time that events began to unfold rapidly and violently. Armsmaster, if you would."

"Yes, ma'am. At 1900 hours, August 31st, two long-range sniper shots killed the apparent leaders of each group, causing them to begin open and unfettered conflict. Analysis of the shots' angles made it clear that neither gang was responsible, and in fact led us to discover the corpses of several teams of known mercenaries, including the snipers responsible." Armsmaster acknowledged, rising to play the relevant clip from various cameras in the area. "During the chaos of the fighting, a presumed third part attempted to kidnap the Master-class parahuman known as Canary, and murder a civilian in her company. It was at this point that the organization that has since identified itself as 'XCOM' appeared and intervened. I would like to note that our current assumption is that this third party controlled the snipers involved, instigating the gang conflict as cover for their kidnapping attempt."

The video feed Sothoth had run was displayed, cleaned up and enhanced a bit of course, showing the six woman team wiping out the gangs with little trouble and less hesitation. The military veterans in the room murmured appreciatively at the display of skill and cohesion. Potential threats or enemies aside, their actions and capabilities were worthy of notice and praise.

"Two members have addressed the public thus far. First, a 'Central Officer Bradford', during the conflict itself, who claimed to be the second in command of the organization. It was he who advised the public and law enforcement to stay out of the area until the conflict had been resolved, as well as informing said law enforcement how to locate injured, trapped, or killed civilians after XCOM withdrew from the area. The second, who identified herself only as 'Archangel', claimed to be the squad leader of 'Menace 1-5', the unit that we see in the video. At this time, we have no leads on their true identities, their loyalties, or their intentions." He finished, gesturing to Miss Militia, who rose as he sat. "Miss Militia was in charge of SAR, and as such will report on the immediate aftermath of the event."

He nodded at the bandana-wearing Cape before relaxing fractionally.

"By the time PRT and BBPD forces arrived, XCOM had left the area, untouched and uninjured as far as we can determine. All injured and trapped civilians were, as mentioned by Armsmaster, marked through the use of red flares, and first aid was applied by XCOM before they departed using an unknown advanced technology. As stated previously, all gang members were found deceased on the scene, as were all third-party mercenaries." The heroine reported briskly, hands folded behind her back as she brought up the confirmed casualty list. "Only three civilian deaths, from bullets missing their targets and punching through the wall. About two dozen injured, mostly minor wounds from trying to take cover. Dragon will now cover the technology they used."

 

The image of one of the greatest Tinkers in the world nodded before starting.

 

"Most of their weapons are fairly standard, at least for the native designs of Earth Aleph that we imported. Automatic rifles, grenade launchers, sniper rifles, even what appears to be a sword not unlike a machete. The only weapon worth noting is the other armament carried by the pair who wielded the grenade launchers." The footage played again, before pausing, zooming, and enhancing on the pair. The room murmured again, the military minds incredulous as she continued. "It appears to be some sort of man-portable rotary cannon with three barrels firing .50 caliber rounds with an excellent rate of fire and accuracy."

 

"Impossible, it is flatly impossible. Without power armor or a brute rating, the damage firing such a weapon would do to a human being is significant. The recoil alone would break arms." The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Tom Waverly, said bluntly. "We've tried to make weapons like that, and even with Tinkertech we can't get it to work properly."

 

"None of our Tinkers are sure how it was done either, but when I took a closer look I have at least the basic idea. It's a type of gyrojet gun, a very unique weapon from the 1960s, which fire small rocket-propelled round called a microjet. The muzzle velocity is tiny, but when the round clears the barrel the microjet itself kicks in and boosts it to 1250 Feet per Second. This means that the weapon itself is extremely lightweight with essentially zero recoil." Militia, as the foremost gun expert present, explained as her power warped a sheathed knife into a somewhat odd-looking rifle. "I have no doubt that XCOM's rotary cannons are more advanced and are more comparable with modern weapons, rather than having half their velocity. Still, even with only the original design it hits twice as hard as a .45 ACP round."

"Christ, the amount of damage that they could do is enormous if they don't maintain proper fire control. If they can adapt that technology to their other weapons it could be even worse." Waverly sighed, tapping the desk before him with a fingertip. "Chief Director Costa-Brown, what can you tell us about the parahuman involved? Could she be responsible for these people, since they stepped in when she was at risk?"

"Could she be their 'Commander', or have Mastered them, you mean?" the head of the PRT asked, and the General nodded. With the slightest of shrugs and shaken heads, Costa-Brown seemed to dismiss the idea. "Canary thus far has restrained herself only to singing, refusing to use her powers as a hero. She finds the idea of Mastering other people to be something of a slippery slope, and one that she has no interested in starting down. An admirable ideal, perhaps, but naïve and unrealistic. The villains have no interest in letting such a powerful asset go unchecked, as this event proved."

"Ideals aside, it appears that she and her companion sought cover to avoid notice, and when the third party attacked them they tranquilized her as their opening move. She was unconscious before she even realized they were under attack, preventing her from defending against them with her power." Militia added, a wave of nods crossing the room. "At any rate, we found no hints of how XCOM entered and exited the area. The alleyway had no cameras inside of it, and no other cameras in the area spotted them coming or going."

"In short, ladies and gentleman, we know nothing. No manifesto or goal besides stopping the gangs, no knowledge of the members or their loyalties. The FBI will take point on domestic investigations, the CIA will look for foreign connections." The Chief-Director summed up with a sigh. "For now, standing orders are to attempt contact peacefully. If they want to focus on gang members, let's not provoke them into thinking of us as enemies until we have more information on them. Ideally, bringing them into the governmental forces as a whole rather than criminalizing them. They must have at least one Tinker on hand, however, and that could prove useful."

"I'll get my legal analysts to work. This group might be protected under the Citizen Defensive Force Act. If so, our options for taking control of the situation, be it by recruiting or arresting them, will be somewhat more limited." The FBI Director grunted, getting thoughtful frowns from his audience.

The Citizen Defensive Force Act had been a modification of the Second Amendment, an addendum if you like, that had been passed by executive order when villain-led gangs had become commonplace and the PRT was still in its infancy. It declared, in effect, that armed citizenry could defend themselves freely with necessary firepower so long as they formed a unified group in doing so, rather than acting alone. A true militia, in effect, limited in that capes could not join, and separated from vigilantism by a few weak sentences and some greased palms.

Its loose wording had been permitted for a handful of reasons. First, if they got too out of control the government could deploy capes to crush them. Not the best PR move, perhaps, but a viable option nonetheless. Secondly, without capes being permitted to join them their strength and versatility was severely limited. Thirdly, and most importantly, essentially no one knew about the law. It wasn't talked about, wasn't taught about, and most people lacked the courage to throw down with cape-led gangs anyway.

Unfortunately, it could now add some legitimacy to these 'XCOM' people, with the presence of any cape unproven the restrictions didn't apply to them. If this group acted as an inspiration for others, they could see a nationwide pandemic of militias cropping up, and that was something that no one in power particularly wanted to see. Such groups tended to lose sight of their righteous beginnings and become just as villainous as those they formed to fight in the first place, if given enough time.

With a few more niceties, promises to keep everyone up to date, the non-PRT/Protectorate individuals signed off, leaving the discussion to move 'in-house'.

"Emily, I need you to keep an eye on our young singing friend. Mr. Baker has evidently been released as of last night, and it's reasonable to assume that he is on his way back to Brockton Bay." Costa-Brown said, getting a raised eyebrow from Piggot, a deep frown from Militia, and an explosive curse from Shadow Stalker.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she snarled, sitting up sharply and planting her fists on the table before her, shocking her fellow Wards, who had no idea who ‘Mr. Baker’ was or why it was important. "He tried to sell her out to the goddamn gangs and hit her besides! What the fuck is he doing walking freely, never mind being permitted to come back here?!"

"Shadow Stalker…!" Armsmaster barked, intent on harsh reprimand, but a raised hand from the Chief-Director had him falling silent, leaving the two females to meet gazes, one cool and understanding whilst the other was hot with fury.

"The conspiracy charges regarding his informing the gangs were, apparently, dismissed due to lack of credible evidence and the fact that he did not actually succeed in the attempts. Drunk and drugged thugs are not considered credible witnesses by some people, and due to some unfortunate legal contortions, the assault charge was reclassified as preemptive self-defense in the face of a Master-class parahuman." Costa-Brown informed the teen hero calmly, getting a scoff in response at the utter bullshit that was that argument. "It might be worth noting that he was being held in California."

"Under the umbrella command of Director James Tagg…" Militia commented evenly, the near-monotone of her voice making her opinion of the man clear despite her text-book perfect lack of expression or tone when speaking of a superior officer to any even higher ranking one. The Chief-Director responded only by signing off, leaving the ENE members alone. "He has single-handedly guaranteed that she will never, ever join the PRT, as well as enflaming the DWA's contempt of us even higher. God help us if someone like Kaiser hears about this and uses it as a propaganda tool. He'd be able to make a nice long, speech about the corruption and evils of the PRT even more than he already does."

"You leader-types can worry about that crap. I'm more worried about how she and her friends will react to this. Well, not really. He tries anything and the DWA will tear him to pieces for it, especially after last night." Shadow Stalker grunted, still angry and disgusted but sounding somewhat amused as well. Taylor and Danny wouldn't let anything happen to Paige now, oh no. Mr. Baker might even take a little swim in the harbor if he tried, with how angry they were at the moment. She'd almost feel sorry for him, if he wasn't a back-stabbing piece of shit.

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"Ah, Tattletale, good. What news do you have for me?" Coil asked as the Thinker dropped into the chair before his desk, ignoring the casualness of the action. He knew quite well how carefree and even disrespectful the vixen could be when she felt like it…which was 95% of the time she was awake, as anyone who had ever had the dubious pleasure of meeting her could tell you.

"Fantastic, boss man. Hebert has had enough of sitting around and letting the city go to shit around him. He's not happy with the ABB and E88 either, but his people need equipment and income if they're going to actually get anything done. Anyone who was able to provide either or both would find themselves with a significant amount of influence over a not-insignificantly sized group of very capable people." The last sentence was said in an incredibly bland tone of voice, and Coil couldn't help but nod thoughtfully at the implications. Having the DWA as unwitting tools and cats' paws would inevitably be terribly useful, as would the opening and opportunity to have his people infiltrate groups and areas he previously had been locked out of. It would certainly make getting his hands on Canary easier, and he might not even have to take her this time. Instead, she might act willingly if it appeared to be on the DWA's behalf. "Anyway, it doesn't look like they're going to be going on the offensive anytime soon, or connected to these XCOM people. Militia didn't seem to know about them all that much either."

"Mildly disappointing, I suppose, but then again if they did I would have found out about them or even heard the slightest hint. Was there anything else worth bringing up?" he was somewhat unhappy that she hadn't gathered more intel, but confirming what she did gave him many paths forward to his goals. If nothing else, the fact that these XCOM weren't PRT meant the opportunity to get himself back on the Strike Teams. Piggy might want an old friend and comrade around with such dangerous rogue elements running around. "You're dismissed. I'll forward you your pay immediately, of course. I ought to have a job for your team soon. I'll need to plan carefully to ensure it doesn't look like the DWA retaliation or something of that nature."

Tattletale hummed in acknowledgment, even more pleased that he was taking such measures without prompting from her. The DWA couldn't save her, and hopefully her teammates, from him if there wasn't a DWA left, after all. If the gangs decided to attack them now they would be in serious trouble, even if Canary stepped up to protect her adopted family. Fortunately, Coil seemed to think that getting his claws into the DWA and then trying to get them on Canary was wiser than his original plan of pitting the DWA and the gangs against each other. Which, admittedly, it probably was, but now he probably planned to use them as disposable troops to preserve his own mercs.

Concealing her pleasure at leaving with a mask of experience-forged, perfectly maintained indifference, Lisa left the base proper, ignoring the grunts that she passed with practiced ease. Five minutes later, she was one her way to the Undersider's primary hideout, an utterly nondescript apartment building owned by Coil. Despite the city being told it was full to the brim with renters, in truth the group of villains were the only ones who actually lived there, allowing them free reign of the building to do as they please. Of course, living in one of Coil's apartments also meant he knew their every word and move, but he probably would even if they lived in a regular apartment. The authorities had no idea it was just them, obviously, and they probably wouldn't ever take notice of it either. The corrupt ones were, well, corrupt, and the honest ones were too overworked with every day events to look deeply into an apartment complex of all things. Especially not one owned and operated by the CEO of Fortress Construction, the creators and builders of Endbringer Shelters nation-wide.

"Welcome back, Lisa." Brian greeted her as she entered the living room, glancing over from where he and Alec were busy playing video games. Rachel, it seemed, was not home. Most likely attacking more of Hookwolf's dog-fighting rings, if she were to wager on a guess. She was fond of doing so, and Lisa wasn't exactly interested in stopping her. "Any jobs from the boss yet?"

"Nope, he said he might have something soon, though. Wants to play it safe for now with how jumpy the gangs are. He's not fond of taking the chance of kicking off a gang war, no matter how slim the possibility. We're going to let things settle a little." She responded, pulling off her mask and heading for the kitchen, feeling somewhat peckish. And by 'peckish' she meant 'eat some ice cream because the boss is a slimy bastard'. "How's your sister doing?"

"Fine, or as well as can be expected, at any rate. She actually passed last school year, though I have to admit I'm as shocked as I am pleased." He answered, his brotherly pride warring with his exasperation at Aisha LaBorne's…antics. She was a handful, it was true, but Lisa actually thought that the younger girl was amusing to be around. Mostly because both of them enjoyed the hell out of trolling people whenever possible.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it." Lisa said honestly with a genuine smile, no hint of her normal vulpine taunting. The devotion that Brian displayed for his sister reminded her so much of Reggie that it hurt. "Hopefully she gets into less trouble this year, though I wouldn't count on it if I were you."

Brian snorted in agreement while Alex smirked. Aisha took 'rebellious teen' to a truly spectacular level, which was totally unsurprising given her home life. The very home life that Brian had gotten into villainy to try and save her from in the first place. Not that Coil had any intention of following through, of course. Grue would doubtless die in some tragic accident once he was no longer useful to the supervillain. His power wasn't as useful as Lisa's own in the long run, not useful enough to buy his life at any rate.

Flopping down onto one of the empty couches with her immensely nutritious snack, Tattletale began to Think, to plot and plan her future. She couldn't preemptively warn or contact the DWA; she doubted that they would be able to act well enough to avoid Coil's suspicions during meetings. Approaching Canary would doubtless have the same effect, as would telling Taylor herself. The PRT was too heavily compromised, and neither they nor New Wave were likely to trust a single word she would speak anyway. Regrettably, she would have to let Coil advance his plans quite a bit before he could be taken down. It would increase the risks to herself and her rescuers quite a bit, but it was unavoidable.

She had the utmost confidence that the DWA would ultimately be victorious against her pseudo-kidnapper, of course, especially with her guidance. They were loyal, capable, and motivated by more than money. That alone had won wars in the past, and though Coil had Tinkertech and mercenaries, the DWA also had far greater numbers as well as both herself and Canary. There was little point in continuing to gnaw on these thoughts, however, since there was really nothing more that she could plan right now. Events needed to unfold and her knowledge base needed to expand before she could come up with anything particularly concrete and crushing. It was a good thing that she had learned a lot of patience over the years.

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On the far side of Brockton Bay, in one of the wealthier parts of town, one Emma Barnes was down in her basement den. Designated as a playroom/hangout of sorts for her to use, it had many of the things that one might expect from such a room. Large screen TV, comfy couches and bean-bag chairs, huge racks of DCVDs and videogames…it was the perfectly ideal place to relax with friends. Tonight, however, it was serving a far different, and vastly more valuable, purpose.

Tonight, she was hunting for vengeance, pursuing the most ancient form of justice. Rather, she was making the first and most vital step of it: finding the enemy. Oh, and they were the enemy, whoever they were. They had attacked her friends, tried to kill her sister-in-all-but-blood, tried to haul away Paige like a spoil of war. Cold fury was a new emotion for the once care-free Emma Barnes, but it was one she welcomed at times like this.

When she had Triggered in that alleyway, the rough hands of thugs pawing at her private parts and tearing at her clothes, the threat of maiming ringing in her ears, she had not gained super-strength, the ability to fly, or even the skill to build machines that defied nature itself. No, she had gained a power of the mind, a Thinker ability that gifted her with the power to find anything that she sought. People, places, even more abstract concepts such as a person's weaknesses. Dowsing, the internet had called it, but a form far beyond the traditional sort.

Before her lay a large, detailed map of Brockton Bay, over which she knelt, with one arm outstretched and bearing a priceless object, the foci of her power: a fine silver chain ending in a clear, briolette-cut alexandrite crystal. A pendulum, through which her power would be channeled to reveal what she needed to know.

"Find me the people who hurt Taylor Hebert." She said softly, and a slight shudder rippled through her body before the dowsing pendulum shifted to point down at the city morgue. She didn't even try to resist the satisfied smirk that crossed her features. Good, they were all dead already. It's what they deserved for trying to kill Taylor and kidnap Paige.

"Fine me the soldiers of XCOM." She asked next, and frowned as the pendulum twirled on its chain aimlessly. Her power, failing to find something? That had never happened before, and it made no sense at all! Her power could find the dead, so long as there was an intact body left behind! Maybe if she tried… "Find me the Commander of XCOM."

She was resolved, intent on finding and helping those that had saved her best and dearest friend. Even if she had to do it anonymously, it would be done. With her power finding them targets amongst villains or gangs, they would be able to do much, much more damage, and faster to boot. She smiled as the pendulum reacted, only mildly surprised as it moved towards The Docks. If she was going to hide out anywhere in Brockton Bay and get support despite being a vigilante group, it would be there. The smile faded into a look of absolute shock, though, as the pendulum came to a stop. She was only vaguely aware of her father saying that Taylor was home from the hospital as she stared with wide eyes at the conduit of her power. Ever so innocently it hung in the air, point directly above one of the colored pins she used to mark important locations.

A pin labeled 'Taylor's House'.

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**Right, here you go you sorry bastards! Emma's power, named but unexplained previously! {Ultimate Dowsing}, the applications of which and her ability to help Taylor being (I should think) immensely and overwhelmingly obvious.**

**If you’re wondering why Emma’s power didn’t point to Coil, she asked where those who _hurt_ Taylor are, not anything related to who sent them or who was behind it. The questions she can ask her power can be very literal.**


	7. A Home and A Cause

 

**Williamwhite: Don't feel bad, Coil is a total bastard. I haven't decided if I will make him a rapey pedo like many stories do, but he is still an utter bastard with no regard for the value of human life. And he does it for personal power, not because of an overarching goal to save humanity, like Cauldron does.**

**Aslion: It's all part of the plan.**

**Void Wanderer: We will be seeing combat mechs, yes, not necessarily the same way as they are in the game though since Taylor and Earth Aleph/Bet sci-fi will influence designs and such. Gene mods are possible, haven't decided yet, and mainly upgrades will be via Tinkertech and liberal applications of using Ethereal tech to make sci-fi weapons. I can think of Taylor getting some great ideas from the likes of Star Wars, Babylon 5, etc. I would, were I in her position. Rare resources will likely be stealing from the gangs or buying on the black market, things like that.**

**The Best Guest: After this chapter is posted, I'll be going back and doing all the edits you've pointed out, including whatever you bring up for this one. I'm sorry to hear of your log in issues, and the issues you described makes your input all the more valuable! The three 'real' XCOM people Triggering may not necessarily happen, but they may not remain 'normals' either. I have cunning plan regarding those three, powers, and how powerful (and versatile) psionics are…well, it should be fun. Yes, obvious loophole is obvious, and yes the PRT is, but at least they aren't oblivious. "Too Stupid to possess basic Logic PRT" is one of my gripes with this fandom sometimes, to be honest. This is something that XCOM will be freely taking advantage of, because they are smart enough to recognize it as truth. She might dislike Calvert, but he's still a comrade and fellow survivor of Ellisburg. She thinks that she has him pegged and controllable, which means she would welcome his assistance, because she doesn't realize she is the manipulate-ee rather than the manipulator. And yes, Old Tech Trees will be freely enjoyed, though perhaps not as is. As I said to Void, she will shamelessly rip off both known Earths' sci-fi stuff to enhance her forces. Wouldn't you, given the opportunity to throw the best of all worlds into one cohesive force?**

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Because of the War

Chapter Six

A Home and A Cause

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Taylor couldn't help the deep, happy sigh that escaped her as she walked back into her house, and her father chuckled lightly in amused agreement behind her. Though her stay in the hospital had been remarkably short, given the nature and extent of her injuries, she was still coming home. Regardless of how short or long one's absence might be, coming home always felt good on some level. If it didn't feel good, then it wasn't really your home after all. As cheesy as it sounded, and as overused as the saying was, 'home is where you heart is' was as true now as it had ever been. Home was peace and safety, nothing less and a great deal more.

It hadn't taken her long to get discharged, as (thanks to Panacea) she was in perfect physical health now. Better than perfect, really, given that she felt a great deal healthier than she had in a couple of months. A side effect of the healing, no doubt, eliminating the day to day wear and tear her body had sustained over that time frame. Of course, she had eaten a truly obscene amount of food when she had woken up, as the healer had foreseen according to her father, but that wasn't really the same thing. Panacea had also told her to think about trauma counselling, given how intense a situation she had endured not even a full day before. Taylor, who had an entire hospital in her head (including psychiatrists of all kinds), had initially contemplated ignoring this advice off-hand, but it had occurred to her that she could as the counsellor for advice on Sophia's issues, which lingered still despite the best efforts of herself and Emma. Since the former vigilante wasn't a client of any therapist, it technically wouldn't violate any sort of patient confidentiality.

Kicking her shoes off, she made directly for her room, bringing her computer online as she shucked her jacket and tossed it haphazardly in the general direction of her bed. She had research to do and media accounts to check, and while she could have done that in her base via her minor technopathic powers, it wasn't the same thing as touching the keys and using her physical eyes to read. There was no small amount of emails and Private Messages, mostly from strangers to her 'public' accounts wishing her and her father well after their hardships over the last twenty-four hours. Appreciated, but neither vital nor particularly significant. Words grew bitter when such events continued to happen without any sort of change. An extremely important from Arcadia, saying that her transfer request had been approved. Combining that and twin emails from Emma and Sophia saying that they had received the same, she would wager that Sophia had been moved out of gang-filled Winslow thanks to the security flaws Taylor had brought up. At Arcadia, she would be away from the gangs, with the other wards, and closer to The Rig if things went pear shaped, rather than totally alone. The public excuse would be a sports scholarship, or something of the sort, with suitable stern wording about keeping her grades up no doubt. Well, whatever, the whys and hows were at the moment less important than the actual results.

"Not a bad place, Commander. Could use a bit of fixing up, of course, but that's for later. Right now, you ought to check PHO for what they're saying about Menace 1-5. Makes for an interesting read." Bradford's voice whispered in her mind, and she hummed in agreement as she followed his suggestion. PHO was all a-flutter with speculation, and the tinfoil hat brigade was out in force. Just as they always were, for let it not be said that people like Void Cowboy were particularly normal people. Funny enough on occasion, of course, but strange indeed.

"Most of this is positive, really positive. Plenty of people thanking us for doing something about the gangs and saving lives. Quite a few personal stories, and plenty of target recommendations as well. Heartbreaker, Lung, Kaiser, The Fallen, the Nine…the real nasty types. We can't take any of them down just yet, but with their bounties we would have a fairly significant bit of capital to work with." She mused softly as she paged through the forum threads intently. "I'd want you guys to have much better gear than you do now before going up against these kinds of people. Would Heartbreaker's power even affect you, Ziva?"

"No, it wouldn't When you manifest us we are real in every way, but we are still projections of a Master-class parahuman. He couldn't Master us because we are a part of you. To control us he would have to Master you, and once you get trained up by Asaru his power will bounce like a rubber ball if he tries." The lead commando responded confidently, and Taylor smiled slightly in satisfaction at that. "It would take good gear and a good plan to raid his compound without causing massive casualties to his thralls, though, so I agree that it is best if we wait for now."

"Basic upgrades like better armor and slug-throwers are things we already have blueprints for, we just need the materials to do the research and manufacture. The obvious solution is to head to the docks proper." Shen added from her post in Engineering, sounding as chipper as she always did.

"What will that do for us, it's just a bunch of decaying ruins and rusting wrecks now. I mean, it would make a good place to train my psionics, but…" Taylor frowned in confusion, not sure what the Chief was getting at. What materials could they possibly get there that would do her soldiers any good whatsoever?

"Plenty of common metals, alloys, electronics…things like that. Without more advanced materials it will take longer, but the upgrades can still happen. We might even be able to smelt lower-tier metals into the more advanced ones, depending on what we find." Lily explained, nothing remotely approaching censure or irritation in her mental voice. "It's easy to do. You head there, summon me and my engineers instead of the soldiers and we collect what we need. Once were done we bringing it back to base with us."

"How does that even work?" Taylor asked, but received the equivalent of a clueless shrug in return. Well, if nothing else, she could practice with her psionics while the engineers did their thing. She needed to get a great deal more capable as soon as possible if she wanted to take some of the burden off of her soldiers. Besides which, sitting on the sidelines wasn't really her idea of being a good hero. "Fine, we'll head out tonight once Dad goes to bed. I don't want to tell him that I have powers yet."

That had been one of the first decisions she had made, and it wasn't because of a lack of faith in the man. No, she had a cunning plan, one so cunning that you could pin a tail on it and call it a fox. To the world at large, she and XCOM would be utterly unrelated. Her psionics would be her powers and XCOM would just be a paramilitary group with similar yet separate goals. With any luck, she would avoid any combat situations until she had trained for a few months, allowing greater anonymity than if she were to go out tonight to fight gangs. It would hardly take an intellectual giant to put 'Taylor Hebert getting shot almost to death' and 'new parahuman in the city the day after' together and figure out her identity. The deception might not work, but in a city like the Bay Trigger events were a daily occurrence. It's why the highest number of new capes per capita could be found here…and the highest fresh Trigger death toll. Too many fresh bloods went out without planning or training, got in to deep, and died to something stupid like a Merchant drug peddler.

"Taylor, dinner!" her father called up the stairs, and she started the shutdown sequence on her computer before padding downstairs with an eager pep to her step. Despite gorging herself at the hospital earlier, she was hungry enough to polish off a dinner sized meal with ease. Fortunately, her father wouldn't be giving her any crap for it, far to wise a man to tease even if the situation were less…traumatic than it was. Sitting down at her place, she piled her plate high and began to feed. After a few minutes, as she polished off her first serving and prepared for her second, her (already full) father spoke up again. "Emma called, she wants to visit first thing tomorrow after school. She wants to give you the skinny on Arcadia and what not, I guess. Probably wants to see you when you're awake instead of in a hospital bed too."

Taylor couldn't help but snort at the old-man phrase, getting an eyeroll from her father in response. The fact that Emma would be visiting was immensely pleasing, as she was the only person besides Paige that she intended to tell about her powers for the time being. No slight meant to Sophia, of course, but what the Ward didn't know she wouldn't have to lie to her superiors about. Speaking, or rather thinking, of Paige…

"Dad, didn't Paige say that she would meet us here after her meeting? I would've thought that they would be back by now It's been a while…" she frowned in concern, really rather wishing that she had a cellphone with which to contact her friend. A thought occurred to her, and she mentally ordered Bradford to begin tracking Paige's own mobile device. Mild relief flowed through her as the resultant mental map display showed that Paige was only a scant handful of minutes away. She doubted that whoever had tried to kidnap her friend would make another attempt so rapidly, but the instinctive worry was there all the same.

"I wouldn't really worry about it, Militia just wanted to talk to her about last night before having her escorted home. Probably to try and convince her to join the Wards for safety, since someone obviously knowns who she is." He pointed out reassuringly, and she grimaced in agreement. The PRT would have a damn good argument to push the singer into joining now, and she couldn't necessarily disagree with them. No one was insane enough to try and kidnap or kill a Ward. That was a guaranteed kill-order with out of town heavies coming in to hunt you down. The last, and only, time that a Ward had been deliberately killed up in Chicago, the Triumvirate had killed the entire gang responsible. ALL of them. "I doubt that her opinion has changed, though, what with all her issues with the PRT being the same now as they were yesterday. Maybe even worse, since she would have been long gone and you dead before they even knew what was happening."

Not a minute later, Paige returned as a storm of fury and fear, emotions made all too clear from the outset by the way she slammed the front door on her way into the house. She headed straight for Taylor, throwing her arms around the taller girl and burying her face into Taylor's neck. To the ravenette's shock and concern, she felt the dampness of clear against the skin there. Paige had been, or indeed was still, crying. Her mind raced: had she been attacked, blackmailed by the PRT, fired from her recording label?

As it turned out, it was actually worse than all that.

"They let Eugene out of jail. He's on his way back here now. It'll take him a little while since he hasn't got any money, but then he'll be back and my life will be ruined!" Paige sobbed out before Taylor could voice any of her concerns allowed, and both Heberts tensed and growled furiously. Out of all of their worst nightmares, neither of them could have ever anticipated such a thing happening.

"They let him go? Fucking why? He was caught red fucking handed in trying to literally sell you off!" Taylor snarled, mentally bellowing orders for her soldiers to find and track Eugene Baker immediately. She would be damned if the little shit was able to sneak up on them and hurt Paige!

"That utter bastard Tagg got him out. He had to have paid someone off, because a federal judge in his jurisdiction dismissed all charges with prejudice and released him. "Paige sniffled, and Danny cursed while Taylor closed her eyes in understanding. Paige had told them all about Director Tagg of the PRT and his vendetta against her. It was somewhat reassuring, thought, to know that the PRT as a whole wasn't behind this travesty. "He has seniority over everyone here in the Bay, and if Chief-Director Costa Brown tried to do anything it would set a really bad precedent."

"The head of federal agency, even or especially the PRT, unilaterally overturning the orders of a sitting federal judge and imprisoning a normal on dismissed chargers?" Danny muttered unhappily, shaking his head in dismay. "You're damn right that it would, even if I would love for it to happen just this once."

"Miss Militia is really angry, I could tell. She couldn't come right out and say anything, but she's willing to bet that Tagg is hoping Eugene will make me angry enough to use my power. Then Tagg swoops in and 'Cages me before I can blink. She told me to stay out of the Wards and as far from Eugene as possible until they can pin him on something else." The singer added bitterly, and Taylor's eyes narrowed slightly in calculation. Tagg's bigotry presented a significant opportunity, both on the personal and national scale.

If Eugene showed up and harassed Paige, so soon after the traumatic events of the night before, it could make a good false trigger event for herself. She could also do some damage to the fucker free of persecution, as Trigger Events provided some legal shields for most things that occurred as a result of the Trigger. It was one of the things the PRT did to try and limit capes going villain, by ensuring that they couldn't be condemned just for getting their powers in the first place. A wise practice, and one that had certainly been effective in the past. Even if that fell through or was ignored as an opportunity, some online propaganda and fiery speeches would turn people against Tagg, possibly removing him from the equation. With Tagg out of influence, it might be possible for several pro-cape measures to pass in the government. Yes, this was a rare and significant opportunity indeed, one she would take advantage of.

"Don't worry, he won't be able to lay a finger on you, I swear it to you. C'mon, let's get you something to eat." Taylor soothed her suffering friend, guiding her to a seated position and placing a food-laden plate before her. "Eat and relax, we've got plenty of time, okay? Dad, could you maybe put the word out for us?"

'Yeah, you got it kiddo." Danny agreed, heading towards the stairs. He would make the call from his bedroom, having recognized the request for privacy that had been cloaked within the entirely legitimate desire to bring their people to speed. Less people around would make it easier for Taylor to comfort Paige, he reckoned. Once he was safely out of earshot, Taylor leaned closer to Paige, taking one of her hands between her own.

"I won't let anyone touch you, Paige. No one will be able to hurt you as long as I am breathing." She vowed, and something in her voice had Paige looking up into her eyes. Eyes that were cold and hard and filled with such iron resolve and confidence that she felt her downtrodden heart rise, and it rose still further as she had an epiphany.

"You Triggered last night, didn't you? You Triggered and got powers strong enough to protect us from the gangs or people like Tagg. You Triggered…to protect me?" she breathed, eyes widening as Taylor nodded fractionally, those green orbs flicking to the stairs in a silent gesture. Confused but willing to heed it, Paige nodded her acknowledgement of the request to keep this new truth to herself. She didn't really understand why Taylor wanted it to be kept a secret from Danny, but she wouldn't press the matter for now. "Does anyone know yet? Emma, Sophia, the PRT?"

"No, and I plan to keep it that way for a while yet. We, I, can do more for the city from the shadows right now, and I want to train before I enter the field publicly. Everyone will expect a first timer, underestimating me badly and allowing me to crush them." Taylor shook her head with a faint smirk of satisfaction. "I'm going to sneak out tonight to train, if you want to come with me?"

"Not tonight, I just want to go to bed right now. I'm totally spent. Maybe next time." Paige responded, sounding as tired as she probably felt. Taylor hummed her understanding and hugged her tightly as Danny came back downstairs and into the kitchen. "Thanks for dinner and spreading the word, Mr. Hebert."

"Of course, Paige. You're a part of our family now, and this time we actually know that there is a threat and what it looks like. Tagg won't be 'Caging you on trumped up charges any time soon, and that's a promise." He told her warmly but firmly, Taylor nodding in agreement. "Anyway, once you girls finish eating you can head on into the living room and watch a movie. I've got a fair bit of paperwork to do and a long day tomorrow, so I'll not be much in the way of company for the rest of the night."

His piece said, he withdrew upstairs once more, and the two girls reflected one the fact that being an adult didn't seem to be quite as much fun as they had always imagined. They had seen how much paperwork he had to do on a regular basis, and neither of them could imagine doing it. Homework had always seemed to be bad enough, but this? This was much, much worse.

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Several hours later, Taylor was slipping out of her bedroom window, onto the porch roof, and dropping down onto the ground with a soft thump. Searching her surroundings with both her eyes and the rudimentary grasp she had on her psionics, she breathed a sigh of relief. She really didn't want to explain to her father why she was sneaking out (especially not the night after her almost-murder!), and if any DWA member or patrols caught her that's exactly what she would end up having to do. Slipping into the shadows, she headed for the abandoned dockyard, evading notice as best she could. Of course, her stealth skills were certainly lacking in quality, something she would have to change, but in the end she managed to reach her objective unseen.

"Let's get to work." She voiced aloud, exerting her power to summon Shen and some of her subordinate engineers, all of whom looked rather excited to get to work. She imagined that being out in the 'real world' was an enjoyable experience, one that allowed them to feel a bit more human than they might otherwise. Perhaps she could set up some sort of rotating schedule so that the crew could get out and about every once in a while? Something to consider, for sure. "Central, monitor the area, I don't want anyone sneaking up on us. Dr. Tygan, begin your efforts to locate those who can help in our endeavors, Tinkers especially."

Her orders given, Taylor's focus began shifting onto Asaru, who was waiting in the proverbial wings to being properly training her in her psionic abilities. She had asked why he had not simply given her the knowledge she needed when she had Triggered, to which he replied that she probably would have gone insane from sensory overload, villain due to the unrestrained power, or both. She would not have been able to properly handle it, he told her sternly, and she supposed that that was fair enough. It's not as though there were not plenty of poignant sayings about power corrupting.

Psionics, Asaru explained to her now rather smugly, possessed a degree of versatility utterly unmatched by any parahuman alive, save perhaps for Eidolon himself. In a very real sense, psionics were like the classical concept of magic: imposing your will upon reality and changing the laws of science to suit your desires. Illusions, mental manipulations, telekinesis…its applications were virtually endless. The only real limitation was her mental fortitude, her ability to command and contain her powers with her mind. Still, she would advance quickly despite the need to train. With Asaru's help she could train her mind even while her body slept, a truly priceless boon for someone who was both 'on the clock' and who had to carry on with a normal civilian life at the same time. No mean feat, that, given the rigors of a high-schoolers life.

She would also need a decent costume; one that could be equal parts menacing and awe-inspiring. To quote an Aleph import based on superhero comics 'theatricality and deception are powerful allies.' With the blue-lighting appearance of her psionics she already had most of the theatricality in hand as it was. Maybe she could ask Paige and Emma for advice. Such things were more in their field of expertise than her own. That or she could gather enough resources to ask the Rogue Parian for a commission. If her soldiers were going to be wiping out criminals, maybe they could take the money there while they were at it. There was a delicious irony in that.

"We found Baker, Commander. He's left California and is in Nevada, heading east as fast as he can. Our investigation into records shows that he's got limited funds available for his movements. There was an order for him to receive 'compensation for false charges and harassment' signed by Tagg, but the Chief-Director was able to quash it readily enough. All the same, it won't take him more than a couple of weeks to work his way here, we estimate. Your 'False Trigger' plans might not be as easy to carry out as hoped." Bradford informed her as she manipulated her psionics to form a small ball of energy in her cupped hands.

Keep him under close surveillance however you can whilst remaining discreet and keep me updated. It is possible he will forsake Tagg's apparent plots and recruit…undesirable elements for his revenge on Paige. Selling her out is what he intended to do in the first place, after all." She responded as security camera footage showed Baker getting off of a Greyhound bus. "Meanwhile, I can think of an interesting, humanizing method of outreach and training for our soldiers. Have all off-duty combat personnel report to the training room and rig the simulators to access the internet."

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Hannah Washington was not pleased, in fact she was incensed and drawing quite near furious. Tagg was a damn fool, a war hawk that lacked the ability to change with the ties. The fact that he was a bigot didn't help his case as far as she was concerned. The part of the world that she came from was well-experienced with people willing to hurt or marginalize those they disagreed with or considered 'lesser' than themselves. Tagg would be horrified and offended to be compared to such radical elements, but she knew just how similar they were. Now, as she had said in the briefing, Tagg had guaranteed that Canary would possess a loathing for the PRT as an organization, and the potential damage to their public relations was nothing short of catastrophic. With one interview, Paige could (quite honestly and accurately) play the teenaged victim, harassed and practically stalked by a man who hated her just for her powers. The victim of his vendetta, one so extensive that he was willing to free her abusive boyfriend in an effort to hurt her. Oh yes, he and the PRT would be crucified by the media and the public. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about any of it right now.

Helplessness, a feeling she loathed more than any other in the world. The same feeling that had gifted her the powers that she now wielded in the hopes to prevent others from experiencing the same crushing despair and emptiness that she had. To know that something terrible was going to occur, and having no method or recourse to stop it, or even to simply mitigate the damage. The only positive thing about this whole shit-show, in her opinion, was that her own personal standing in the eyes of the Heberts (and thus the DWA) and Paige was untarnished. Paige had recognized her displeasure with the entire situation during their meeting, and the younger girl was too honest to not tell her housemates about it. She had to admit, it was nice being held in esteem by people for something other than just being 'Miss Militia', as if her name and employer were the only things that mattered about her.

Opting to cease her ruminating for the time being and instead unwind before she went mad or got sad (whichever came first), she logged into World of Warfare and settled more comfortably into her chair. Greeting her online friends with something resembling good cheer, she spent the next several hours immersed in ferocious firefights and chaotic melees as she (if only for a brief time) forgot about the crushing weight of her responsibilities. It was nearly midnight when the soothing monotony was broken by an urgent request for reinforcements from one of her current team's outlying outposts. They were, apparently, getting annihilated by a group of unknowns, new players. That in and of itself was worthy of attention since new players, quite logically, tended to die easily and quickly in fast-paced combat games like this. They just didn't have the experience to do much else, and so her interest was quite piqued. This could prove to be interesting.

When she arrived at the besieged sector, it became immediately apparent just how outmatched the defenders were. While most of the attackers were utterly average in every way, moving in triple-four formations for mutual support (which could be devastating even if only through sheer volume of crossfire) there was one group that stood apart. A group of six, moving peripherally in pairs, was scything through those who opposed them with little in the way of impediment. A melee specialist, a sniper-medic, a dedicated sniper, two heavy troopers, and a tech-trooper. Their loadouts, and the way they moved, jogged a memory.

Despite the apparent insanity of the thought, she started to recognize the formations and tactics that this elite group was using. They were a carbon copy of the XCOM unit's, and as she watched the rest of the force began to adapt to mimic them with great effect. Withdrawing from the battle, she quickly made a new character and logged back in, this time panning through the various clans and player factions for any hint of her quarry. Finally, she located them, a series of six-person teams led by a designator she recognized all too well: Menace 1-5. Her assumption was right, then. XCOM was here, apparently in force, playing a video game of all things. How…bizarre, and surprising for a paramilitary organization. Perhaps it was hypocritical of her to judge, but then she was a public figure, not a mysterious faction. Regardless of the somewhat absurd situation, it was an opportunity for her to try and interact with them peaceably, perhaps gather some knowledge from casual conversation. Firing off a group request with a message implying that she was a native of The Bay and a fan, she awaited a response or an invitation to join them. It wasn't even that much of a prevarication, as she certainly supported their goals of protecting the innocent and eradicating the gangs. She had been born and raised into a land as filled with factionized conflict as Brockton Bay, and she knew full well that ignoring things for the sake of keeping the status quo (as the United Nations had with her homeland) led to nothing but great suffering. That knowledge, however, warred with her belief in the American justice system and American values. She knew that this country wasn't perfect, much as she wished it was, but surely even a flawed system was better than warlords running things?

"Welcome to the party, Warmaiden." A warm, accented feminine voice greeted her as she joined the group, the VOIP section of her HUD flagging the speaker as Archangel. The other members of the squad, she saw, were Nitro, Glycerin, Bloodsong, Morphine, and Whisper. "We didn't expect to be recognized in the virtual world quite so rapidly, but then we may have underestimated the speed with which social media can move information in spite of authority. I hope that you and yours are safe after our debut?"

"We are, thank you. You saved a great many lives with what you did. Brockton Bay didn't need any more tragedies or memorials to the fallen." Hannah responded honestly, eyes narrowing slightly. The use of the word 'debut' implied an intentional revelation, rather than a spur of the moment intervention. Did XCOM have agents in the gangs who passed the word of the upcoming conflict to allow Menace 1-5 to get into position? She wouldn't be surprised; they certainly appeared to be capable enough to do so. It could also be readily assumed that they intended to be well-known, and she was willing to bet that playing the most popular game around was a PR move, meant to put people at ease and make XCOM seem more human and approachable. Wouldn't they be risking looking weak and ineffectual to the gangs, like glorified police rather than faceless stormtroopers?

"If the gangs, or anyone else, want to underestimate us because of what we do in our down-time, that's their suicide. Only the outstandingly stupid or arrogant let things like this color their perspectives to that degree. Anything that helps us take out the trash suits The Commander just fine." Bloodsong snorted dismissively when she voiced her concern, the rest of the squad echoing in agreement. "The gangs in The Bay have gotten too big for their britches thanks to the hands-off nature of handling them, and now they will suffer for it. As will all enemies of Mankind."

"So say we all." The rest of the squad intoned together, and Hannah raised her eyebrows. That sounded…mildly ritualistic to her, and the implications of labelling people 'enemies of mankind' was worrying. People had done that sort of thing before, and it had never, ever ended well. The fact that they said such things was disturbing, though not necessarily as disturbing as (just for an offhand example) the Endbringer Cults. Granted, not much in the world could hope to approach being as disturbing as people actually worshipping those monstrosities.

"And what, in your point of view, makes someone an enemy of mankind? What gives you the moral high ground, the righteousness, to judge and condemn others outside of the law?" she asked coolly, reminded more than she was comfortable with of the so-called 'holy warriors' that had terrorized her home land and slaughtered her people. "What makes you anything more than a gang of vigilantes killing freely?"

"Righteous? Perhaps we are not. What is righteous to one man is the service of the Devil to another, this is true. Perhaps we do not have badges and pieces of paper that decree our right to protect people, this is also true. But the true evil of the world is to see suffering before you and turn your eyes from it in apathy." Archangel responded with passion suffusing every syllable, every breath with which she spoke. "Those who harm innocents with intent or indifference, those who abandon their morals for the sake of their goals, those who hurt those who have done you or those who are innocent no wrong…these are the enemies of mankind, these are the people we will hunt down. Can you honestly say that the likes of the Nine and Heartbreaker are not evil? That they should be struck down not only by those accredited by the nation to act, but any who possess the ability to end the suffering they so happily perpetrate?"

"Of course not, I wouldn't dream of saying something so stupid." Hannah scoffed in response, thinking hard about the rest of the other woman's speech. It hadn't sounded quite so bad to her, all things considered, and the federal forces might be able to use the group's definitions to guide them properly. She knew better than most how east it was for heroes to somehow become villains. How quickly one could find oneself in the depths of Hell due to decisions made with the purest and kindest of intentions. "But without the law to guide you, how do you keep yourselves from straying into darkness? I'm not saying that the law is perfect, but it's better than anarchy."

"Of course it is, no one is disputing that, but there are times when good intentions are hobbled by laws or lawmakers. You know this, you know that the likes of the ABB and E88 are ignored in the hopes that they will sustain the Cold War in the city, that they will stand beside heroes to fight Endbringers or the truly evil parahumans. I ask you, is it better to destroy the gangs and risk a temporary power vacuum? Is it better to let them continue preying on the innocent for the sake of not risking escalated conflict?" Archangel asked, and Hannah found herself wishing she wasn't so alone in her room. She hadn't expected to get quite so deep into philosophy, and such pointed comments were reminding her all too much of partially-buried misgivings over how the government and its branches handled the parahuman world. The misgivings that had tempted her with the possibility of going Rogue, of forming her own hero team to actually deal with threats rather than arrest them and find them on the streets again within the week.

She briefly considered reporting to her superiors so that they could try and trace the group to their base of operations, but she discarded it just as rapidly. The Chief-Director had instructed a soft-ball approach, and the PRT raiding them would only push XCOM down a darker path. Besides, if they were confident enough to play video games publicly without even trying to conceal who they were, they were probably more than capable of detecting and deflecting any trace attempts that could be made. No, live and let live was the best policy for now.

The rest of the night passed free of heavier subjects than good-natured ribbing over K/D/A ratios and rumored updates to the game, most of which involved whining about items and abilities getting nerfed. Some things, regardless of the individuals involved, would never change. That, if nothing else, was reassuring.

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Taylor was practically bouncing with excitement as she watched the living room clock with the kind of intensity usually reserved for a particularly large ice cream cone. School had let out fifteen minutes ago, which meant that Emma should be here any second, and she couldn't wait! She would finally have someone (outside of her power itself, obviously) to talk to about the changes her life had had of late. Sure, she had Paige, but her blonde-haired friend had more than enough to worry about right now without Taylor adding more onto it. Paige didn't want to even think about using her powers for conflict, and Taylor would respect that by not discussing conflict with her unless otherwise unavoidable. Good friends respected the views and needs of one another, she knew, and she was determined to be a good friend to the person who had saved her from her despair, and her stupidity.

The doorbell rang and she darted out of the living room, pulling the door open with a broad smile and greeting the fire-haired girl on the other side with a bubbly eagerness not at all dissimilar to her every day attitude back before her mother had died. Emma laughed lightly as Taylor pulled her into the house with questions about Arcadia and its inhabitants flowing freely, questions she did her best to answer. It was hardly surprising that Taylor would want to know about their new school and the people in it and, after a shock like the one she had had, being clingy and a little frenetic wasn't too unusual either. To be honest, Emma was secretly pleased, having missed this part of the other girl badly. Taylor had always been something of a sun for her, and lacking that light is what had led to her stupid little plan with Sophia. Something she would never fully forgive herself for, no matter what Taylor said about the matter.

In time, both fell into an awkward silence, each trying to find the words to speak into being their secrets, the new truths that lingered within their minds and hearts. Both feared the other's rejection or even discomfort, a despoilment of the treasured connection that they had only just been able to preserve and reforge, but both were determined to speak up in honesty nonetheless. Silence and unvoiced concerns is the very thing that had nearly damned their friendship, and it would not be the cause of such a rift again. Fortunately, it took but a handful of minutes for their anxiety to reach critical mass, and they blurted the pivotal words in the same breath as the other.

"I'm a cape!"

"Wait, what? You're a cape too?" they cried in shock immediately thereafter, before giggling awkwardly and falling into silence again, each somewhat unsure of how to proceed now, the unexpected similarities robbing them temporarily of their courage. Which was a bit odd, given that one would think that it would strengthen it instead.

"I Triggered back when Sophia rescued me. When they were…touching me." Emma spat the words as if the very taste of them on her tongue made her sick, which in truth wasn't all that inaccurate. Taylor reached out and claimed her hand in a show of solidarity and comfort, getting a tremulous smile from the other girl, who continued her story. "I tried to fight them, of course, I wasn't going to just lie there and take it, but they were armed and stronger than me. I prayed, desperately, for way to beat them. To find a way to escape. Sophia stepped in moments after that, but it had already happened, I already had powers. The power to find nearly anything. I asked it to find me the Commander of XCOM, and it pointed me here. I knew your dad was at work when I asked, so I knew that it had to be you."

Taylor sat silently as she absorbed that, mind calmly racing through the implications. Emma Triggering in such a situation as she had described during their chat at her house was, in hindsight, mind-numbingly obvious. While her power was, admittedly, far from what one might expect in such a situation (as one would, obviously, expect a combat or defensive oriented power), it could none the less prove to be nothing short of devastating for the enemies of their city and of mankind in general. Combined with the {Intelligence Gathering} of her own power, this…dowsing skill of Emma's would make achieving her ultimate goals a whole hell of a lot easier, that was for damn sure!

"Have you told anyone about the connection between me and XCOM?" she inquired sternly, and was gratified but mostly unsurprised when Emma shook her head in response. Her security was still intact, then, which meant that she could continue moving forward as she was. "Good, keep it to yourself, even from Sophia and my Dad. What people don't know, they can't be forced to talk or lie about. C'mon, let's take this up to my room before he gets home."

As they ascended the stairs, Taylor explained (in loose terms, keeping such things as Asaru and the oncoming apocalypse to herself) what her own powers were (the Trigger event needed no elaboration, of course) and began mentally comprising a list of clarifying questions about Emma's power with the help of her command staff. It would be an incredible asset, but if Taylor was going to wield it properly she needed to have a firm grasp of it. Hmm, that had sounded a bit cold, but as with in regards to Paige, she couldn't misunderstand her own intentions. Emma was a valued friend, but Taylor had responsibilities and duties above and beyond those close to her or even the DWA at large. Oh, they were still her most immediate priority, but…she shook her head to dismiss that train of thought for the moment as they entered her room and she shut the door.

"I want to help you, Taylor, because I know you. I know you aren't going to sit around when you have the ability to help people, to finally make progress on healing this city. It's all you've ever wanted to be able to do." The redhead said softly, but with a firmness rarely heard from the normally laid-back girl. She was right, of course, and Taylor was only mildly surprised by her declaration. Emma still had a bit of guilt complex over the whole 'ignore for two months' thing, and personality wise Emma would never have been a front-line fighter, regardless of powers. It just wasn't who she was, and Taylor was glad for it.

"I won't turn down your help, that is for sure. Not only is your power incredibly useful, but it is more that it won't put you in any immediate danger. We can't ever let anyone know about your power's particulars, that's gonna be rule number one. If we think people want Paige badly, I can only imagine how they would act in an effort to get their hands on you." The Commander responded with a half-smile, already directing her soldiers to begin remotely accessing and tapping into security cameras on Emma's house and its general vicinity. A bit invasive, perhaps, but she consoled herself with the fact that she wasn't watching inside the house, and it was for Emma's safety. Aaaannnnndddd that's how stalkers thought about such things, which was a thought she didn't appreciate thinking. She was not a stalker, dammit!

"I'm not worried about it. You'll protect me." Emma said serenely without the slightest hint of doubt our hesitation, and Taylor couldn't help but blush faintly in embarrassment.

"Let's try to keep the situation from arising in the first place, hmm?" Taylor appreciated Emma's confidence in her, she really did, but she was not nearly powerful enough to stop the likes of Lung or Kaiser from getting their hands on either of her friends. It would require a great deal more training before her psionics were up to that level, though she would eventually reach the point where they would be easily laid low. Well, maybe not Lung, what with his insane regeneration, but the point stood all the same. "Now, let's go over your power in greater detail, and then we'll do the same with my own. Knowledge is power, and all that."

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Contessa couldn't help but sigh in irritation as yet another Path involving XCOM grew hazy and disjointed. They were being deliberately shielded, she could tell, a side-effect of a power. And it would have to be a fairly significant power too, to be able to interfere with the Path to Victory. Some sort of cloaking, she wagered, something that made it difficult for her Agent to ping off of the others. She might have to introduce herself sooner rather than later, because this was intolerable. Perhaps a chat with young Paige…yes, that Path resulted in her meeting XCOM on fairly good terms, but it would require a delicate touch. A delicate touch and not informing her comrades in Cauldron right away. They were a bit too fond of precipitous action when things looked like they might be straying from the grand plan of salvation.

It was fascinating, from the flashes she could see of the future along her new Path Alexandria's little 'social experiment' in Brockton Bay was going to take some truly interesting twists and turns. All pivotal to one particular girl, a girl her Path wanted her to be quite friendly with in order to avoid becoming a target. Like Coil was about to become, funnily enough, which suited her just fine. He was a useful tool, but that didn't mean that he wasn't a cruel, arrogant bastard that she would happily shoot that very moment if it wouldn't cause The Path problems. Well, she would get to watch him get his comeuppance, if nothing else, so she could be satisfied with that.

She checked her Paths again in the hopes that she could actually rest for a little while, and sagged in relief when she saw a full twelve-hour period where she could do virtually anything that she liked. She hadn't been able to do that very often for the last couple of decades, always moving along The Path in a somewhat lifeless existence. It was driven only by Steps, with little time allowed for being human unless she wanted to extend the Path further still, and it was already long and treacherous enough as it was. She refused to make it more so out of a selfish desire, and so limited herself to the minimum food and sleep she could operate on in order to accomplish more steps faster. Only during times like this, where the Path required someone else to do something before she could continue, could she truly relax.

She didn't regret her powers or her joining of Cauldron, of course, and she never would. She had long since stopped trying to create Paths without her and their presences on the board, for none of them ended well and most of them ended rapidly. Not regretting it, however, did not mean that she didn't enjoy the rare down times that she got. Sometimes she stayed in bed all day, sometimes she went to the movies, once or twice she had even gone clubbing (and hadn't that been interesting. She hadn't done that after getting her power, so when the first time she went and she knew who might be the best person to go home with…well, she wished Path to Victory had been hers back in college!), but no matter what she did she savored every single moment of it.

Tonight, she mused to herself, she would use a Doorway to pop over to Earth Aleph. There was a concert that she would enjoy going too, it seemed, though she carefully ignored anything that showed her the concert itself. Watching a concert through her power wasn't anywhere near as good as watching it in person.

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**And so it ends, just under 8k words for this chapter. As always, questions in the comments or what have you will be responded too in time, though on Spacebattles in particular I enjoy watching you guys discuss your perspectives on my intentions.**

**For free I'll tell you that I've always been mildly irritated with the way Contessa is portrayed in the fandom. I totally agree that she would be incredibly dedicated to her mission and willing to do whatever it took, but not one fanfiction I have read covers how incredibly exhausting it must be to live your entire existence based around a regimentally-structured, literal step-by-step power. Lemme know what you think, yeah?**

 

 

 

 


	8. Shifting Perspectives

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Because of The War

Chapter Seven

Shifting Perspectives

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"Are you sure that you want to go to school this soon?" Danny asked as he, Paige, and Taylor wound their way along the roads between their home and Arcadia High School. Paige, for the sake of security, would be camped out in The Dockmaster's office for the day. She would be doing this first semester online, as she had the last school year, before transferring into Arcadia herself. "There is still plenty of time left in the week if you need it."

"I'm fine Dad; no one is going to mess with Arcadia. Not with the Wards as known students and PRT reinforcements only a couple of miles away. Besides, hiding in my house for the rest of the week isn't going to do me a damn bit of good." Taylor shook her head firmly in refusal, eyes and bearing firm. She obviously had no intention of backing down and giving up; no matter how nervous she was about being both around new people and in a new school less than 72 hours after nearly dying. And it was pretty damn clear that she was nervous, at least to those who knew her well. "I know you're worried, but I'll be totally fine. I'm away from Winslow and the wannabe 'bangers, I'm going to be at a school that actually gives a damn, and it will impress people that I'm out and about so soon. Win-win-win."

Danny grumbled a bit, but he acquiesced in the end regardless, happy despite his concern and protectiveness. Taylor's stubbornness and unyielding nature had made her a headache to raise more than once, but it also gave her an inner strength that filled him to bursting with a fierce pride. She had never been one to back down, so it was hardly surprising that this moment was no different from any other. She certainly came by it honestly; no one had ever accused him of being a pushover, and Annette could made him look like a chump when she got the proverbial bit in her teeth. She had, after all, been a radical first wave feminist at one point, before her group had gone utterly psychotic.

"Stay close to Emma and Sophia, Taylor. At least until you make some more friends beyond them. Arcadia may not have obviously bad kids like Winslow, but I can guarantee it has its own version." Paige asked softly as they pulled into Arcadia's parking lot, eyes darkened slightly with concern, and Taylor gave her a reassuring half smile that her heart beat a little bit faster for and her face heat up.

"Of course. You stick close to Dad and the others; I'd hate to have to burn the city down because someone took you away from me." Taylor responded, opening her door and hefting her backpack as she started to slide out. "I'll see you at home later. I miss you already."

If Paige hadn't been blushing before, she damn well was now, because that had sounded distinctly flirtatious to her, and she wasn't quite sure how to handle that. On the one hand, her hero and crush had just said a very couple-y thing to her without any visible hesitation. On the other, she had no idea where to go from here or even if she could. She adored Taylor, respected her deeply. How could she not, when the ravenette was her personal knight in shining armor? The only problem was, the entirety of her dating experience was Eugene, which was not the best experience to take into a new relationship, and the idea of Taylor and fucking it up (doubtless ruining their friendship in the meantime) was terrifying. She needed Taylor, and she couldn't imagine losing her.

She would wait and see what Taylor did, she decided. If Taylor pursued her romantically or made overt signs of interest she would reciprocate without hesitation, but she wouldn't force her own desires onto Taylor. As selfless as Taylor was, she would go out with Paige just to make the singer happy, and Paige didn't want that for either of them. Not when Taylor deserved so much, not when she had so much to deal with that was all on Paige's account. Taylor never would have been shot, never would have Triggered, if it wasn't for her.

She was utterly oblivious to the rather unhealthy mindset in which she was finding herself, the fixation and pedestal with which she was attributing Taylor, but then it was only to be expected. In the most painful, most empty moments of life, one will latch onto something that provides them purpose and balance. An anchor against the hellish upheaval that permeated every day of those who lived in the most hellish place in America.

Blithely unaware of what was going through her singing friend's mind, Taylor had squared her shoulders and was striding through the front doors of Arcadia High School. While she had known, intellectually, that Arcadia was about as different from Winslow as you could get, the lack of litter and gang tags was still somewhat jarring to her. The spotless white stone walls of Arcadia were a startling contrast to her old school, which literally did not possess a single foot of wall that did not possess some form of graffiti. The students making their way into the building were dressed like the young adults they were meant to be, with no pants hanging down to the knee or breasts bursting from too-small shirts. This, she could tell already, was a school that actually followed through on the whole 'prepare students for adult life' spiel that all schools liked to claim. Shocking indeed, but also immensely encouraging, and she felt a knot of concern she hadn't quite realized existed dissipate.

Becoming uncomfortably aware of all the eyes on her (she was a new student, after all, and she was willing to bet more than a few knew who she was), she headed into the main office. A quick sweep of her eyes noted several students and adults conversing about the room, doubtless on any number of subjects, and opted to wait in silence for one of the staff members to be free. It would hardly be a good first impression if she were to barge in and interrupt an ongoing conversation, after all, and she had been raised better than that.

"Ah, you must be Taylor Hebert! Welcome to Arcadia! Please, join me in my office!" a jovial voice boomed, drawing the attention of the entire room to the large, broad shouldered and massively bearded man who had spoken. Said attention swiftly shifted itself to a blushing Taylor, with curiosity, calculation, and God knew what else in every eye. Those who hadn't noticed her or known who she was when she entered the room damn well did now! Which meant it would be all over the school in oh, about two whole minutes from now. Glorious, just unabashedly spectacular!

Ducking her head, she hastened past the man into his admittedly spacious office. Well-furnished with a soft carpet, mahogany furniture, and most interestingly a display of medals on one bookshelf. It seemed that her new principal was a veteran of the Vietnam War. That explained some of the predilection for discipline and routine amongst the faculty here, and it certainly made her feel somewhat vindicated in her choice of school transfers. It also explained why the PRT was so at ease with the Wards attending this school as well rather than the oft-recommended/demanded-by-the-press online schooling. Several of the Directors had probably served with this man at some point, given the mixing-and-matching of units that often had had to occur due to casualties. That was rather more intelligent a decision than she was used to observing from the PRT, which meant she would have to adjust her perception of them suitably.

"I am Principal Barry Kemp, and I am pleased to welcome you to my institution! A successful and competent student such as yourself is always welcome within my halls, and I applaud you for coming in so soon after such a traumatic incident despite having the option to stay home this week. It speaks well of your determination to succeed in life that you did so." He told her as they sat down, he behind his large desk and she before it. "You've read the packet we sent you on conduct, responsibilities, and such things I trust?"

"Yes, of course sir. All perfectly reasonable and I'm more than capable of following through. One of the reasons that I wanted to come here in the first place was that you have a code of conduct, never mind one that is actually enforced. If I may be blunt, Winslow often felt like a real-life example of The Lord of The Flies." Taylor responded with a polite, though admittedly also honest, smile. The Principal quirked an eyebrow in amusement at the comparison, and she shrugged one shoulder a little. "Teenagers, sir. Medieval Feudalism in the modern world, and I say that as one of them. Of course, the fact that my friends and the Wards go here helps. I feel much safer now that I know the likelihood of someone getting shanked or shot in the hallway between bells is virtually nil."

"Many people seek membership here because of that very thing, though of course any identities are a strict secret." He acknowledged, a ghost of a restrained smile twisting his lips at her humor and candor. "Nevertheless, my assistant will provide you with your schedule and a guide, and each teacher will provide to you the textbook for their class."

Recognizing the dismissal for what it was, Taylor rose and offered her hand with a smile, one that was returned as the older man stood and took it in his own. A brief shake later, and she was back outside in the (fortunately less populated) office. In fact, only the secretary and…Panacea were there? She must be the guide that the principal mentioned then, but it seemed rather…pedestrian for so renowned and respected a person. One sheaf of papers (schedule on the top) later, and the disguised paramilitary leader/psionic powerhouse in training was following the girl who had saved her life through the hallways of their now-mutual school.

"It looks like you and I share more than a few classes. I'm surprised and kind of impressed that you've got these kinds of grades." Amy said absently, and Taylor felt a smile grow on her lips as heat immediately rose in the Dallon's cheeks.

"Coming out of Winslow, you mean?" she offered, cutting off what would doubtless have been an embarrassing but heartfelt apology for what could have been taken as an insult had Taylor been so inclined. Amy nodded her head in agreement, looking mildly relieved, and the Dockmaster's Daughter shrugged. "Don't really blame you, but since I didn't really want to spend any time with 99% of my classmates, I had plenty of time to study and get my grades up."

She paused as Amy snorted in amused agreement, no doubt imagining exactly the kinds of people that Taylor had once been forced to spend her schooldays with. From what The Wards had told her and Vicky, the BBPD and PRT thought some 85% of the students (and half the staff) were affiliated to one degree or another with one of the gangs. Horrifying numbers, well over the limit of what should by all rights bring the Feds down on the city to clean house, but of course it wasn't going to happen.

"They offered to let me skip a grade, but I would rather be with people my age, and I'm not sure I wanted my introduction to this school to be that of a braniac that almost died. One or the other, but not both. Thanks for saving my life again, by the way. You didn't have to, no matter what the PRT said about my Dad's temper." She continued after a long pause, pushing as much sincerity into her voice as she could without sounding insincere. Amy blushed slightly (and wasn't that interesting, for surely she was used to being showered with compliments, praise, and declarations of undying gratitude?) before shrugging uncomfortably and bobbing her head in acknowledgment.

The first few classes of the day passed smoothly, though Taylor soon found herself acknowledging that they were more intense than those of Winslow. The teachers were alert, sharp, and uninterested in entertaining any sort of goofing off or stupidity. They also, wonder of wonders, knew their material far better than their Winslow counterparts, and they actually seemed to give a damn. Fortunately, it wasn't as strict as the other well-known school in The Bay, that being Immaculata Catholic High School. It was legendary for being strict, regimented, and unwavering, but it was also one of the best educational facilities in Massachusetts. Regardless of their impressive record for graduates, she couldn't (perhaps quite ironically) imagine a worse Hell than such a strict environment. Arcadia's reputation was just as good and evenly balanced strictness and freedoms. And, if she was going to be entirely honest with herself, she could gather intelligence on and from The Wards and the PRT far easier from here than in Immaculata. She could hardly risk relying on Sophia at the current time, not with any sort of consistency anyway.

By the time lunch rolled around, Taylor was famished. As amusing and odd as it might sound, doing actual learning made her hungrier than sitting around and ignoring her gang-banger classmates ever had. The fact that lunch at Arcadia was at least an hour later than at Winslow probably had something to do with it as well. Who would have imagined?

"Ames! Over here!" a loud and boisterous voice shouted over the low din of the cafeteria as Amy had Taylor into the cavernous room. She couldn't help but feel amused by the utter lack of reaction that Glory Girl's shouting garnered amongst the student body at large. Clearly the students of Arcadia were used to that sort of thing by now, as was Amy judging by the huff that escaped the shorter girl. From what she had read on PHO or seen in the news, the young Alexandria-package was what some would call sociable, informal, or even gregarious. The description most preferred to use was 'loud, but friendly.' She was also well known for being rather hotheaded and impulsive, no different from any other teenager, but she unfortunately could collapse buildings or kill people if she lost too much control.

"Come on, she'll want to introduce you to everyone, and it looks like your friends are sitting there anyway. She always grabs my lunch, and I'm willing to bet your pair did the same thing." The healer sighed to her companion before setting off to wind her way through the moderately controlled chaos. It was a bit easier than Taylor might have found it had she been on her own, as people obviously recognized the healer and shifted to make her passage at least somewhat easier. Kind aid aside, though, it was still a path filled with rambunctious teens messing around and haphazardly strewn backpacks.

"So…how did you first half-day at a real school go?" Emma quipped as Taylor sat between her and Sophia, getting a snort from the former vigilante and a chuckle from The Commander. The rest of the table seemed to be restraining their laughs as well, understandably given the legends and tales surrounding their former place of education.

"Pretty good, since I didn't have to worry about a gang war breaking out during math class." She answered dryly to the amusement of the entire table, amusement that promptly turned out outright laughter when Sophia grumbled that she might not mind an interruption to her least favorite class. As mean as it might sound, critical thinking wasn't exactly Sophia's strong suit. She flourished in the moment, and it made her a damn good fighter, but classical schooling was a struggle for her.

"Lemme introduce you to my friends." Victoria (who was so sunnily happy that she was almost blinding) chirped as the laughter fell into silence. "You know Ames, of course, since she fixed you up the other night. This is my boyfriend, Dean Stansfield. That's Dennis Charleston, Carlos Dorent, and Chris Easton, friends of Dean and me."

She indicated the boys around the table in turn, each nodding their heads in greeting. All of them, sans Carlos, were fair-skinned with darker hair and eyes than the vibrantly blonde heroine, and Carlos was as darkly toned as Sophia was. Which was saying something, as the archer was by no means on the lighter side of the dark-skinned spectrum.

"You must be Taylor, then. It's a pleasure to meet you." Dean greeted her aloud with perfect politeness and courtesy, the other boys echoing him, and she found herself impressed by his decorum. She was not, however, entirely surprised. After all, Glory Girl (and her family) weren't likely to suffer to a fool or a cad for her paramour. "I'm glad to see that you are doing so well, though I think Vicky could have avoided mentioning the event entirely."

"Ah, shit, sorry. Didn't mean to remind you of anything unpleasant. Just trying to make conversation, you know?" the New Waver rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, and Taylor eyed her shrewdly.

"That and you wanted to make sure I remember how much Amy did for me, right?" she suggested pointedly, before waving away the resulting guilty look that was sent her way. "You're looking out for your sister and reminding people not to take her for granted, I'm not going to give you any crap for that. And while I appreciate the concern, if I wasn't ready to handle passing mention of what happened I wouldn't be here. You're not the first person to mention it today, and you damn well won't be the last. It is a genuine pleasure to meet all of you. I trust Sophia and Emma made their introductions to you before now?

They had, obviously. They wouldn't be sitting at the same table otherwise, after all. Silence fell for several minutes as everyone focused on inhaling a large portion of their meals. Taylor was pleased to find that the food here was damn good, far and above anything that could stereotypically be expected from high school cafeteria food. It seemed Arcadia was breaking all kinds of assumptions today, she mused absently to herself as the conversation started back up again. As she ate, occasionally contributing to whatever the current subject was, she stretched out with her mind. It was easier, now, to brush against those of the people around her and to control how much she heard. A good thing too, because she had no interest whatsoever in delving too deeply. Violation of privacy aside, half of the people in this building were thinking about sex to one degree or another, and she really wasn't interested in viewing those particular trains of thought. If she did, she probably wouldn't be able to look 90% of the building in the eyes again without it being immensely awkward. She also, rather generously some might say, opted to avoid seeking out the Wards for the time being. She didn't want to risk them noticing her probes, no matter how unlikely such a possibility might be, and a probe would be necessary to discover such a thing in this environment. Out in the field, when the Wards were thinking about their duties, it would be easy. Here, where the forefront of the mind was focused on school and socializing, thoughts of the cape life were buried below the surface.

The bell rang, pulling her from her psionic skimming, and she let out a small sigh as she got to her feet and headed for the doors. Back to the proverbial salt mines it was, then.

########################################################################

"This is totally suspicious. This soon after an attack, some mysterious benefactor appears from the shadows with a whole pile of work? If he was serious about backing the DWA's vision of the city and wanting to help us, he would have come forward a lot sooner than this." Taylor declared bluntly several hours later, tossing the high-quality letterhead onto the table with a dark scowl. "Call me paranoid, but this Calvert guy has gotta be playing some kind of game, and that really pisses me off."

"He runs Fortress Construction, makes Endbringer shelters and the like. I can certainly believe that he needs strong backs for construction and such, but I agree with Taylor. He's been operating in this city for years, and if he really wanted to hire you guys he would have done it a long time ago." Paige added, giving Taylor a lingering one-armed hug, two pairs of cheeks pinking slightly at the contact.

"Not necessarily, girls. It's important to be wary, but the minute you start jumping at every single shadow is the minute you start to lose it." Danny cautioned the pair, amused despite his concern over the situation at the two awkward teens. "With the political climate in the city being what it is, and has been for years, it wouldn't have been the best business choice to publicly throw in too much support with us. The upper crust of the Bay would have black-balled him and his company. I'm not saying that that's the case, but always acknowledge and plan for other alternatives than your first assumption."

Despite visible displeasure with his apparently relaxed approach to the situation, the two teens nodded begrudgingly. Healthy suspicion was one thing, but blind, aggressive paranoia never ended well. Admittedly, it wasn't really paranoia if someone was actually after you (which someone obviously was), but assuming everyone was an enemy could blind you to allies. Logic over emotion, reason before reaction.

"So, we go to this meeting then. The work will help our people a lot, and if they prove that they can do this kind of work without issue, others might follow Calvert's lead and hire us in the future." Taylor sighed tiredly, almost resignedly, one hand lifting to rub at her temple slowly.

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?" Danny offered philosophically, getting a nod in response, and it was his turn to sigh unhappily. "I don't want you girls getting involved with potentially shady business, I really don't. I'll decide how we'll handle it when we get closer, all right?"

Acquiescence was really the only option from there, and so the conversation was tabled for the time being. Or, at least, it was tabled as far as Danny knew. Taylor, meanwhile, had her Intel operatives under Bradford scanning through everything they could get their hands on in relation to the CEO of Fortress Construction. The treasure trove of knowledge her soldiers could access through the internet was incredible, and essentially untraceable. The government or enemy hackers couldn't exactly trace an IP address to her brain. Probably. She really hoped not, because otherwise she was in deep shit.

########################################################

Dinah Alcott was in the midst of a quandary, in spite (or perhaps even because) of her Thinker powers. Said power, which she would define as 'determination of probabilities', allowed her to answer any question with a percentage. The higher the number, the higher the chances. A powerful and versatile precognition power, to be sure, one that almost made the horrific Thinker headaches that were its side effects worth it. Almost. Regrettably, it only gave probability, nothing more. No who, what, when, where, why, or how. Not without asking an absurd amount of questions to figure it out through process of elimination. Thus, when she had asked herself 'Chances that I will be directly in danger within six months' and received a 99.4536% probability, she was terrified. While just living in Brockton Bay was dangerous, as the Mayor's niece and a definitive member of the upper crust of the city, she was at least nominally safer than most other people. Soon enough, though, fear turned to bafflement.

Chances of being rescued? 99.4536%!

Chances of being unharmed? 99.4536%!

Chances of the threat being neutralized? 99.4536%!

She might only be twelve years old, but the fact that all of those numbers were precisely the same seemed a bit strange. No variation whatsoever was, amusingly enough, not statistical. With so many potential factors involved, variation was essentially inevitable, wasn't it? Some manner of explanation was provided when she asked the chances of XCOM protecting her, with the same number provided. Ergo, it was because of XCOM that this result would occur. They were the central piece of the proverbial pie. The most direct way, she reckoned, to acquire such aid was to simply message one of them on PHO and explain the situation as best she could. It would certainly be the fastest way to secure her safety, but a final, uncomfortable query brought the probability of her attacker escaping to 85% if she did so right now. Logically, this meant that XCOM was in position to protect her, but not to capture the danger. She very carefully didn't phrase it as a question, but a private thought to herself was that whoever he was, he would try again if he escaped.

She could obviously afford to be patient, then. She already knew the end result, and over the next several days she could push her power to discern more of the requirements to achieve said result. Narrowing down the precise timing and methods in particular would be a good idea, an endeavor for the coming days' questions. Quite satisfied with her planning for the day, and with her homework already finished, she could spend the rest of the afternoon watching cartoons and being a regular kid. Pretending that she hadn't Triggered, that she wasn't going to be hunted like an animal for her powers. That she wasn't being forced into maturity far earlier than one might expect of her seemingly-privileged life.

#########################################################

"…several more girls between the ages of fourteen and twenty have gone missing from the city proper and surrounding suburbs, with no apparent connection to one another. Authorities believe this latest rash of disappearances to be kidnappings for the sex-slave trade, but seem to have no leads or successes in investigation." The mildly attractive news anchor was saying, more or less ignored by the half-dozen Merchants grouped around the table, playing cards and passing several joints around.

It was a dingy place, this Merchant base. A rundown house towards the middle of their territory, it was maintained well enough to not be an immediate death risk to people inside of it and nothing more. It was also their primary 'training' brothel for recently 'acquired' teens, which was currently full with the very young women the news story had been speaking on. So deep in their territory, to prevent any successful escape attempts, the guards assigned to his location had long given up even pretending to be alert and prepared for their duties, confidence breeding complacency, and it was this that cost them.

A sharp burst of static caught their attention, the TV signal glitching out for a long moment. One of the Merchants was rising to his feet, planning on hitting the damn thing until it worked right, when the image changed to show…was that a video game? Had Uber and L33T hijacked the news feeds again for another of their stupid fucking shows? Fuck, it even had an ammo counter! _So lame!_

 _"Target building in sight. Preparing to go loud. Bangers and breach."_  A female voice said as the POV approached a house, and one of the Merchants frowned thoughtfully. That house looked kinda familiar, a lot like the one they were in…his eyes widened and he opened his mouth to shout a warning, but it was too late. Windows shattered as flash-bangs were hurled through the windows, detonating in a cascade of searing light and ear-shattering sound. Armored boots smashed into shoddy doors, collapsing them, and a half-dozen armored figures stormed into the house. Screams, shouts, and wild gunfire filled the air as the Merchants attempted to defend themselves in a literal blind panic, but it was futile. Controlled bursts of rifle fire cut them down, the attackers untouched as they swept through the bottom floor.  _"Bloodsong, Whisper, Nitro. Sweep and clear top floor. Morphine set up first aid in the back yard. Glycerin, let's clear these bodies out of the way."_

All across the country, anyone near a TV watched with wide-eyes as the hijacked channels displayed the carnage of an entire Merchant 'warehouse' getting cleared out. Law enforcement and Merchants alike scrambled to locate and reach the specific building, one to rescue the civilians therein and the other to re-secure their 'product'.

_"Central to Menace 1-5, approximately twenty enemy combatants approaching your AO from East-Northeast. BBPD and Protectorate reinforcements are ten minutes away. No sign of enemy parahumans. Engage and destroy all hostiles and secure the area for EVAC. Firebrand is enroute to exfiltrate your team when the mission is complete."_

_"Roger that Central, 1-5 out."_  The camera began to shift as its bearer (obviously being Archangel) unslung a sniper rifle and headed upstairs passed the stream of rescued girls as they left the upper floors.  _"Menace, time for Phase 2. Morphine, Bloodsong, Whisper: escort the girls clear. Nitro, you and Glycerin are with me. Watch your fields of fire; we don't want any collateral damage."_

Now the screen split, one showing two commandoes (Bloodsong and Whisper) at the head of the cluster of 15-odd teenaged girls away through backyards and alleys, with the POV (who obviously had to be Morphine) taking up the rear. The other showed the twins, armed this time with regular carbines, setting up in windows on either side of Archangel, who had since settled her long-barreled rifle to rest steadily on the sill of her own window. Having already seen what six women had done to 100 bangers, the observers didn't much doubt what the result would be for three of them versus only twenty. Nothing happened for several tense minutes, though they felt like an eternity, as the victims got further and further away. Abruptly, the silence was broken by the sharp crack! of Archangel's sniper rifle as she opened fire, promptly followed by the staccato chatter of the twins following suit.

 _"Increase in enemy activity detected. Monitoring confirms deployment of a vehicle associated with Merchant parahuman code-named Squealer. Begin exfiltration immediately and prepare for retrieval."_  Central's voice broke in again, not sounding disturbed in the least by the knowledge that a cape was after his soldiers.  _"Escort unit, divert West 100 yards. Law enforcement will pass by that location in 5 minutes. Delay team, double time it."_

Both groups accelerated their paces, the escorts chivying their charges onward as approaching sirens became clearly and easily audible. Even breathing crackled across the mic as Archangel's group sprinted out of the building and followed the path of the others, guns swinging rhythmically with their strides. Within a handful of minutes, the girls were clustered on the side of the road, tearfully thanking those that had rescued them, and the feed cut out as XCOM withdrew and vanished without a trace.

###############################################

"Well, that was fascinating. And what can you tell me about this situation, ladies and gentleman?" the President of the United States asked his cabinet, who had been called together for an emergency session when the feed had gone live. "Because from what I saw, that is a very deadly group of young women who have little in the way of qualms when it comes to these 'Merchants'."

"Few qualms in general when it comes to gangs, Mr. President." General Waverly confirmed, with a tired nod, having been driving home to sleep when he had had to turn around again. "About a week ago, they wiped out one hundred odd members of two other gangs that were shooting up downtown Brockton Bay. Everything that we've heard and read and guessed since then indicated that they're a group of civilians trained and led by a handful of veterans that have had enough with the gangs ruining people's lives."

"I can certainly get behind that, but the problem I have with this is two-fold: first, they take control over every TV channel in the country, and we have no idea how they did it. Second, they don't appear to follow any kind of rules of engagement. Executing downed opponents, using true military-grade weapons in a populated area…" the Director of the FBI pointed out, sounding distinctly unhappy. "The last thing we need is some sort of anti-gang crusade kicking off a full-blown war with the likes of Lung. If they provoke him enough, we can't stop him if he wants to flatten the city."

"Moving against them wouldn't be wise unless they do something really bad." The Press Secretary spoke up a little absently, eyes intently peering at her tablet as she scrolled through pages. "There is a huge outpouring of support online right now, plenty of people saying they would join if they could. Rescuing almost two dozen girls from forced addiction and sexual slavery in front of the entire country, and most of the world, has done wonders for their PR."

"The point still stands, though, that they could kick something extremely volatile off. Chief-Director Costa-Brown, is there anything more that your Organization can do to reduce the likelihood of Lung going on a rampage? Anyway to take him out of the picture?" the President turned to the youngest member of the group, who shook her head in response.

"Lung went head to head with Leviathan himself, sir. The only way for us to beat him would be a long-range assassination or an ambush with enough firepower to take him out before he ramps up. However, he hasn't done anything worth a kill-order yet, and even if he had, killing him would guarantee the start of a gang war. Oni Lee would start a campaign of revenge, and the Merchants and Empire would try to capture territory. Essentially sir, Brockton Bay has survived this long by keeping the status quo."

"God, what a nightmare. I want this situation monitored, and I want you all to reach out to this XCOM. Try and figure out more of their plans and their cause. CDFA or not, we can't have people running around like this without any sort of oversight or controls in place." The President ordered, looking around the table. "Miss Costa-Brown, I understand that you have very limited people, but if you could send at least one or two parahumans to reinforce Brockton Bay, I would appreciate it. If only to show the public how concerned we are about such crimes as kidnapping and slavery."

The room dispersed, each going their own way (most headed home for some much-needed rest), and the disguised Alexandria resisted the urge to grit her teeth in anger. These 'XCOM' people had brought Brockton Bay out of myth and obscurity onto the national stage, which limited her options. Using it as a test-bed for post-Scion feudalism had been a somewhat off-the-cuff decision, but one that could prove immensely valuable. Now, however, there were far too many eyes on the city for her to ignore it and slow-boat any transfer or reinforcement requests. She would have to make some sort of concession, send some sort of help, or people would start to ask very uncomfortable questions.

Who to send, though? Plots aside, she was legitimately unhappy with the idea of splitting up the expert teams across the country, the teams that had ideal synergy and the respect/fear of their local criminal elements. She would start with looking over the lists of transfer requests again, with the intent of actually transferring someone. That could provide a suitable solution to her problem, and it might be especially useful to send a Ward. That way she was 'doing something' without actually increasing the pitched battle capacity of the city, at least not for a few years until said Wards became adults.

A new plan formulating in her mind, she headed for home, absently grumbling to herself about the irritation of having to drive rather than fly or use a Doorway. Being in disguise sucked!

###############################################################

Sorry it took so long, got sick and then got assaulted by a plot bunny, though you won't be seeing that other story for some time! Gonna actually do a timeline/planning thing for it, chapter by chapter, before I start writing it! I would really rather run it as a Quest, but since I have no idea how to run one that idea is scuppered…


End file.
